When Irish Eyes Are Talaxian
by RFK
Summary: Voyager's crew celebrates St. Patrick's Day with another one of Neelix's special brews and chaos ensues. Set just before "Inside Man" in early Season 7.
1. Chapter 1

TITLE: "When Irish Eyes Are Talaxian"  
AUTHOR: RFK  
CODE: Paris, Neelix, the Doctor, P/T, J/m, m/f/f  
RATING: R  
E-MAIL: june_daley@rocketmail.com   
FEEDBACK: It would be nice to receive some. Please, no flames  
SUMMARY: Voyager's crew celebrates St. Patrick's Day with another one of Neelix's special brews and chaos ensues. Set just before "Inside Man" in early Season 7.  
DISCLAIMER: Sigh! All characters and etc. pertaining to Star Trek Voyager belongs to Paramount, Viacom and . . . well, you know who.  
  
AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is another one of those stories about Neelix's weird holiday drinks, set around St. Patrick's Day. The idea for this story belongs to my sister, Roxanne. Without her urging, or should I say, harassment, I would have never written it.  
  
  
WHEN IRISH EYES ARE TALAXIAN  
  
  
Part 1  
  
Staff meetings. As far as Tom Paris was concerned, they were the scourges of Starfleet duties. At least that was his opinion, while he sat inside Voyager's Conference Room with the rest of the senior staff, listening to the First Officer's report on duty assignments. Tom opened his mouth to yawn. A slender hand gave his left thigh a tight squeeze and he immediately closed his mouth. Tom shot his half-Klingon wife a grateful look. Yawning in the middle of Chakotay's report would have attracted unwanted attention from Captain Janeway. However, one look at Voyager's auburn-haired commander told Tom that she was on the verge of a deep sleep.  
  
Chakotay finally finished the report. Everyone turned their attention to Janeway, who sat in her chairs with eyes half-closed. Both Tom and his close friend, Harry Kim, suppressed a snicker. Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok nudged the Captain's side. Gray-blue eyes flew open. "Huh? Oh." She quickly snapped to attention. "Well, I see that everyone has finished their reports." A small guffaw from Tom earned him one of his captain's legendary death glares. "Unless someone else has something to add, you're all dismissed."  
  
"I have something," Everyone stared at Voyager's morale officer and only Talaxian. Neelix added, "Actually, Tom does."  
  
Tom's eyes blinked. "I do?"  
  
"We talked about it during breakfast this morning. Remember?"  
  
This morn . . . Then Tom remembered. His idea on how to boost the crew's morale. Of course. The boredom of today's staff meeting seemed to have numbed his brain. "Right. Now I remember."  
  
"Mr. Paris?" Janeway's eyes bored into his.  
  
Tom cleared his throat. "You see Captain," he began, "St. Patrick's Day is in two days and I thought it would be great if the crew celebrated with a party. Or hold a St. Patrick's Day festival in the Fair Haven holodeck program."  
  
"Oh no!" The long-suffering groan emitted from his wife and Voyager's chief engineer. "Not Fair Haven again!"  
  
Tom ignored B'Elanna's interruption. "Like I was saying, I . . . Neelix and I thought it would be great to hold a festival at Fair Haven. We weren't able to last year, since I hadn't completed the program yet. And since your name is Janeway . . . I thought you would like to celebrate St. Patrick's Day in a real   
Irish setting." He flashed the Captain his most charismatic smile.  
  
"There's no need for flattery, Tom," Janeway replied with her own smile. "The whole idea sounds wonderful. We can hold the celebration during the second half of the Alpha shift and the first half of the Beta shift. That way, the entire crew can have a chance to join in the celebration." She paused. "Where exactly in Fair Haven will the festival be held?"  
  
Tom replied, "I thought the town's square would be nice. There'll be music, dancing, food . . ."  
  
Neelix's bubbling voice added, "And don't forget drinks. Tom promised me I could serve Valax. It's a Talaxian whiskey much like your Earth whiskey. Very potent and absolutely delicious!"  
  
Doubt clouded Harry Kim's face. "Talaxian whiskey on St. Patrick's Day? What's wrong with Irish whiskey?"  
  
B'Elanna asked, "Now how would you know what Irish whiskey tastes like?" Her dark eyes riveted towards Tom face. The others' eyes followed her gaze.  
  
"Why is everyone looking at me?" Under the relentless stares, Tom caved in. "All right, I had replicated a sample of Irish whiskey for Neelix. With synthehol." He directed his last words at Janeway.  
  
Harry asked, "Why don't we do the same for the party? Replicate whiskey?"  
  
"But I was looking forward to brewing Valax for the crew!" Neelix protested. "Why my Valax was renowned throughout my part of the quadrant before Voyager's arrival. Believe me, you will enjoy it. Besides, we can save replicator rations and it even tastes better than Irish whiskey."  
  
Janeway smiled. "I doubt that any self-respecting Irishman would agree, Neelix. However, this festival seems like a good morale boost for the crew. And I expect everyone," she stared pointedly at both the Vulcan Tactical officer and the former Borg, who sat next to each other, "to attend."  
  
Tuvok, who was notorious for avoiding parties, sighed. Out loud "I will be there as well," he added. His left cheek began to twitch, much to Tom's amusement.  
  
"I'm afraid I cannot comply." Seven-of-Nine's cool statement took everyone by surprise.  
  
Janeway frowned. "Seven?"  
  
"I promised Lieutenant Torres I would help her complete the diagnostics on those new warp coil relays. It should take us at least three or four days. Isn't that correct, Lieutenant?" The former Borg gave B'Elanna a pointed look.  
  
B'Elanna's eyes shone with immediate understanding. "Thanks for reminding me, Seven. I completely forgot about the warp coil relays," she replied. A little too eagerly to suit Tom. "And you're right. It's going to take several days. And Captain, since you did point out that the coils are a priority . . ."  
  
"A priority that can wait, B'Elanna." Janeway's smile became pointed. "I hope to see both you and Seven," her eyes shifted to a very stoic Seven, "in Holodeck One, two days from now."  
  
Forever relentless, Seven refused to surrender. "There is always the possibility that the holodeck might malfunction if the Fair Haven program is allowed to run for so long. Remember what happened last year."  
  
"Seven's right," B'Elanna quickly added. "Perhaps the celebration should be held in the Recreational Hall." Tom did not know whether or not to strangle his wife. As much as he loved her. Even after nearly a year, B'Elanna had yet to develop a fondness for the Fair Haven program. Her opinion of the Irish town had lowered even further after Fair Haven's citizens held the Doctor, Harry and himself hostage for being evil spirits.  
  
"I'm quite sure that nothing will go wrong this time," Janeway said. "Besides, that incident was a mere fluke. Nothing similar has happened since." Again, she smiled. "And I expect you two and Tuvok to be at the festival."  
  
Tom added, "I'll make sure that B'Elanna shows up, Captain." His wife threw him a withering glare. He smiled.  
  
"I don't think so, Tom." Chakotay looked enigmatic as usual. "According to the duty roster, you're scheduled to command the Bridge during Beta shift, two days from now."   
  
"Tom?" Harry's voice rang with disbelief. "Since when did you start volunteering for command duty?"  
  
B'Elanna piped up. "Since I suggested it would be good experience for him. After all, I'm doing it And the possibility of Tom taking command of the Bridge in an emergency is more likely than either of us." A sly look crossed her face as she met Tom's eyes. "However Tom, I could always take your place for that day . . ."  
  
Chakotay interrupted in a quiet voice, "I'm sure the Captain would agree that it would be best to stick to the original schedule. Besides, we don't want to ruin Tom's first time in command of the Bridge, do we?" A devilish glint lit up his dark eyes. Or so it seemed to a sour Tom.  
  
So that was it. Tom realized he would be forced to miss one half of the festival, while most of the crew get to celebrate. Including his wife, who would prefer to be somewhere else. Wonderful.  
  
Janeway dismissed the staff. While everyone else filed out of the Conference Room, Tom turned to B'Elanna. "Nice try," he murmured in her ear. "You almost got out of it."  
  
"Almost is not enough," B'Elanna grumbled. "I don't see why the Captain and Chakotay couldn't allow us to change places. I wouldn't mind a little time on the Bridge. It's a hell of a lot better than spending hours in Fair Haven."  
  
"What you have against Fair Haven, anyway?" Tom demanded.  
  
Dark brown eyes looked at Tom with an innocent air. "Why nothing," B'Elanna replied sweetly. "Other than I find it even more saccharine than the Doctor's original holographic family. Oh, and the lovely citizens of Fair Haven once tried to kill you, Harry and the Doctor, because they thought you were spirit folk."  
  
"It's nice to know that your concern for my well being played some part in your feelings." Tom leaned forward, his lips inches away from B'Elanna's mouth.  
  
However, B'Elanna jerked back. "Don't even think of it, Flyboy. I'm still pissed at you for suggesting that festival in the first place. You'll have to do a lot more to earn my good nature back. I only wish that Seven's little scheme had worked." She started for the door.  
  
"Too bad for you that it didn't." Tom caught up with his wife. "You know, it almost makes me miss those days when you two could barely stand each other." Ignoring B'Elanna's glare, he swept past her and stepped onto the Bridge.  
  
* * * *  
  
Inside the ship's galley, Neelix stood behind the stove, stirring his first batch of Valax that bubbled in a large pot. Valax with synthehol. The Talaxian frowned at the thought of the extra ingredient in his beloved recipe.  
  
As much as he valued his years spent on Voyager, Neelix could not for the life of him understand certain Alpha Quadrant practices. Like serving non-alcoholic liquor aboard a military vessel. Alcohol was part of a military tradition with nearly every species in the Delta Quadrant. Or at least in his part of   
the quadrant. Why bother serving synthehol, if the regulations prevented the real thing from being served? The Talaxian continued to stir the Valax until he realized it was finished. Then he turned off   
the fire and ladled a spoonful of the liquor. Neelix took a sip. Ugh! His spotted face formed a grimace. This tasted nothing like Valax! It must be the synthehol. Neelix figured that it did not mix well with fermented Leola root.  
  
Panic struck the morale officer. What was he going to do? He could not serve this mess to the crew! They would hate it! Neelix paused momentarily. Maybe he should . . . He shook his head. No!   
He couldn't! Captain Janeway had expected him to put synthehol in the Valax. On the other hand, if he served this to the crew, it would put a damper on their St. Patrick's Day festivities. Deciding that the latter seemed the greater evil, Neelix tossed out the pot of Valax and began preparations for a new batch. Valax without any synthenol. Besides, who would know?  
  
* * * *  
  
"What is this ridiculous outfit you chose for me?" B'Elanna demanded. She stood in front of the full-length mirror inside the Paris-Torres quarters.  
  
Tom stared at the long, rose-colored dress that his wife wore with an appreciative eye. He thought she looked marvelous and especially appreciated the way both the skirt and blouse hugged her body in all the right places. "It doesn't seem ridiculous to me," he replied. "In fact, it looks quite   
delicious."  
  
"Not smashing?" B'Elanna shot back. A feral light gleamed in her eyes.  
  
Tom stepped closer. "Delicious, smashing. I think you get the idea." His eyes fell upon the dress's low-cut neckline that barely covered his wife's cleavage.  
  
"Keep your eyes forward, Hotshot," B'Elanna growled. "I'm beginning to think that you replicated the blouse like this in order to get an eyeful."  
  
Tom's mouth curved into a wicked smile. "Well, I need to remember something positive in order to keep me from being bored out of my mind for the next several hours."  
  
"Really?" One of B'Elanna's eyebrows formed an arch. "I can think of something better." She leaned forward and gently nipped Tom's lower lip. "What about that? Or maybe this." Then she pressed her lips against his. Tom drew her into his arms, the couple opened their mouths and settled into a deep, warm kiss.  
  
His mind fixed on his wife's warm lips and soft body, Tom failed to hear his combadge chirp. "Bridge to Paris." His attention remained focused on B'Elanna. "Chakotay to Paris. Please respond."  
  
Two pairs of lips disengaged with great reluctance. Tom sighed and responded to the First Officer's summon. "Paris to Chakotay. I know. I'm expected on the Bridge."  
  
"You were expected about five minutes ago. And everyone is waiting for B'Elanna in Holodeck One."  
  
B'Elanna withdrew from Tom's arms and growled. "When this day is over, you will have a lot to make up for."  
  
Tom gently forced her back into his arms and smiled. "Why don't we start making up now? Both of us are already late. I'm sure that another ten or fifteen minutes won't hurt." As his wife did before, he nipped B'Elanna's lower lip before pressing his mouth against hers.  
  
* * * *   
  
Gray eyes swept appreciatively over the photonic landscape that served as the Fair Haven village. Green streamers hung from rooftops and windows. Booths that provided food, drink and entertainment circled the village square. Janeway never felt more Irish than she did at that moment. Tom Paris' idea for a St. Patrick's Day celebration had been inspirational.  
  
All of Fair Haven's citizenry, along with many of Voyager's crew members, had gathered for the festivity. Like the former, the Starfleeters also wore late 19th century costumes. The combadges on their chests distinguished them from the holographic characters. Janeway beamed at them, until she realized   
one person remained missing - namely a certain chief engineer. She frowned. What happened to B'Elanna? A minute later, the chief engineer appeared out of nowhere, drawing stares from others. That dress! Janeway's eyes widened. Where did B'Elanna get that dress? It was a simple, late 19th century,   
rose-colored garment with white lace flowing from elbow-length sleeves and barely covering the scooped neckline. Bold in color, yet very simple and elegant. It made Janeway feel almost inadequate in her own steel blue dress. Well, almost. Not even B'Elanna's eye-catching outfit could not attract Michael Sullivan's admiring glances from her.  
  
"Sorry I'm late," the engineer growled in a breathless voice. Janeway noted B'Elanna's flushed skin and eyes that shone just a touch too brightly. "I was held up." B'Elanna drew in one last breath. "In Engineering."  
  
The looks on several Starfleeters' faces seemed to hint that the half-Klingon was somewhere else other than Engineering. Janeway glanced at B'Elanna's back and noticed the gap in the latter's dress. She was not the only one who noticed. A smirk appeared on Chakotay's lips. "What were you doing?   
Crawling around one of the Jeffries tubes, B'Elanna? The last two buttons at the back of your dress are unfastened."  
  
Several titters from other crewmen erupted. Harry smiled. B'Elanna shot her mentor with a dark glare. "I . . . never mind!" Her face became even flushed. She struggled to fasten the two buttons. Fortunately, Seven volunteered to complete the task.  
  
Janeway allowed herself a quick smile before clearing her throat. "Everyone, please gather around!" she declared loudly. Once Fair Haven's citizens and the Starfleeters focused their attention upon her, she began her speech. For five minutes, Janeway talked about the joys of Irish culture, her ancestors and the origins of Saint Patrick's Day. When she finished, everyone broke into loud applause and cheers. At that moment, Janeway felt she was more than a starship captain. She began to feel like a well-respected head-of-state. Michael Sullivan, Fair Haven's respected tavern owner and unofficial mayor, grandly pronounced the commencement of the town's St. Patrick's Day celebration. Music   
flowed from a gathering of fiddlers. Merchants hawked their food and drinks from booths and everyone began to mingle. Everyone, except for Tuvok and Seven-of-Nine. Janeway frowned.  
  
"Tuvok, Seven," she said to the reluctant pair, "why aren't you mingling? Enjoy yourself."  
  
The Vulcan security officer eyed his surroundings with a hint of disapproval. "If that is possible. However, I do not see the logic of celebrating one's culture in this manner. On Vulcan, we celebrate Kal Rekk by . . ."  
  
Janeway quickly interrupted. "We're not on Vulcan, Tuvok. This is Ireland. And there's an old saying, 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do.'"  
  
"But this isn't Ireland." As usual, Seven's Borg-like logic had come to the fore at the wrong moment. "This is just a hologra. . ."  
  
"Excuse me, Seven." Janeway signaled both Chakotay and the Doctor. "Gentlemen, why don't you show Seven and Tuvok around town? Introduce them to the townspeople?"  
  
Both the First Officer and the hologram appeared at Janeway's side. The latter gave Seven and Tuvok a benign smile. "I will be most happy to. In my capacity as Fair Haven's spiritual guide, I have become well acquainted with . . ."  
  
"Doc-tor!" Chakotay interrupted. "Why don't we show them around, not bore them with your qualifications."   
  
The Doctor gave Chakotay a pointed look. Fortunately, he also took the hint. "Of course." Then the hologram linked his arm with Seven's. "Why don't we sample some of Mr. Neelix's Valax? I hear it's quite delicious."  
  
Being the recalcitrant creature that she was, Seven protested. "I don't think it would be wise for me to consume any alcohol. Nor do I see any need to introduce me to the people of this town. I happen to be quite familiar with this program." But the Doctor and Chakotay led her away before she could   
finish. Tuvok threw Janeway a long-suffering look and followed the other three.  
  
Janeway heaved a long mental sigh of relief. She returned her attention to the holographic barkeep. "Now that we're finally alone, how about that game of darts?" Her eyes twinkled mischievously. She and Michael had established a long-standing rivalry over the dartboard.  
  
Only Michael did not seem to be listening to Janeway. He was busy frowning at Seven's retreating figure. "Now that is one odd young lady. I wonder what she meant by this program?"  
  
"Don't mind Seven." Janeway linked her arm through Michael's. "She's always been a bit odd. Space travel affects her a little differently than the rest of us."  
  
"Hmm." Michael's eyes remained fixed on the ex-Borg. "If you say so."  
  
To distract him, Janeway gave his sleeve a tug. "About that game of darts?"  
  
"Why don't we share a dram of Mr. Neelix's whiskey, first? He tells me it tastes a bit like Irish whiskey. If you can believe that."  
  
Janeway's voice grew husky. Seductive. "Trying to get me tipsy, Mr. Sullivan? Are you that afraid I'll beat you again?"  
  
One of the Irishman's dark brows rose. "Again? Katie darlin, have you forgotten already? I won the last two times."  
  
"Not today, you won't." Janeway flashed a challenging grin. Michael responded with one of his own. He led her toward the tavern. "By the way, how did you know about Neelix's whiskey?"  
  
Michael replied, "He told me. Wanted me to serve some to my customers."  
  
"Now how does he plan to do that?" Janeway asked. Fortunately, Michael did not hear since she had spoken under her breath.  
  
* * * *   
  
"You're going to serve your Valax to the people of Fair Haven?" Harry Kim stared at Neelix. "How do you plan to do that? I thought the Valax was for the crew."  
  
Neelix stood behind a booth erected in front of the Ox and Lamb restaurant, where he occasionally cooked. In front of him stood four barrels filled with Valax. "I asked Tom to add the Valax to the Fair Haven program." He patted two of the barrels on his right. "These two are holographic simulations for the townsfolk. I thought it would be nice for everyone tried a sample." He   
reached for a glass and filled it with brew from one of the barrels on his left. "Here," Neelix handed the glass to Harry, "try it."  
  
The young ensign took a cautious sip. A wide grin spread across his face. "This is delicious!" he cried. "Smooth, yet smoky." Harry took another sip. "Like real Irish whiskey." Neelix felt a surge of relief.  
  
"I didn't realize you were familiar with real Irish whiskey, Harry." The remark came from B'Elanna, who appeared next to the booth.  
  
A deep flush colored the ensign's face. "Not the real stuff, B'Elanna. You know, with synthehol. Neelix's Valax tastes like the whiskey I've had at Sandrine's."  
  
"No need to explain yourself, Harry." B'Elanna gave her friend a pat on the arm. "It's just Tom's warped sense of humor getting hold of me." She pointed at the glass in Harry's hand. "How's the drink?"  
  
Neelix immediately took the opportunity to serve a glass of Valax to her. "Harry seems to like it very much. Try it." The half-Klingon engineer sampled the Valax. Like Harry, she expressed approval. When B'Elanna asked about the main ingredient, Neelix told her. "It's Leola root, of course. Fermented   
Leola root."  
  
"You're kidding!" B'Elanna exclaimed. "So you finally made something decent from that stuff?"  
  
What did she mean by that? Neelix pondered at the look Harry gave the chief engineer. "What's wrong with Leola root?" he asked. "I thought everyone liked it."  
  
"Of course we do," Harry quickly answered. "B'Elanna and I were merely amazed that such a delicious drink came from something like Leola root. We thought it was mainly used for . . . you know, main dishes."  
  
Satisfied with Harry's reply, Neelix flashed a bright smile. "So you really liked the Valax?"  
  
"Really," B'Elanna replied, before she drained her glass. "How about another drink?" She handed her glass to Neelix. So did Harry.  
  
While Neelix was busy filling glasses, Commander Chakotay, Tuvok, Seven and the Doctor joined the group. "Sampling Neelix's Valax?" Chakotay asked in a light voice. "How is it?"  
  
Harry replied, "It's great. You should try it. Neelix even has barrels for holograms."  
  
"How nice of him," the Doctor added dryly. "However, unless one is serving champagne or wine, I'm not really interested in alcohol. Why don't you give it a try, Seven?"  
  
Seven responded, "Perhaps not. The last time I consumed any alcohol, it damaged by Borg nanoprobes."  
  
"That was synthehol champagne, Seven," the Doctor corrected. "And your Borg nanoprobes were barely damaged. As I'm sure you won't be . . . damaged by Mister Neelix's drink. It's also made with synthehol. Am I right, Mr. Neelix?"  
  
The Talaxian paused momentarily. Until he realized that he might draw unwanted attention. Especially form the ever vigilant and suspicious Vulcan security chief. "Most definitely, Doctor," Neelix replied. "In fact, Valax is less potent than authentic whiskey or any other Earth alcoholic drink." Neelix immediately shut his mouth, hoping he did not sound too enthusiastic.  
  
Chakotay accepted a glass of Valax. Seven hesitated, until the Doctor convinced her to try a drink. Tuvok remained reluctant. Then Commander Chakotay mentioned something about how Captain Janeway wanted "everyone" to enjoy him or herself. The Vulcan sighed, accepted a glass of Valax and took a sip. He expressed approval with his trademark arch of the brow. "Impressive," he murmured. "You have outdone yourself, Mr. Neelix."  
  
"Another drink, Mr. Vulcan?"  
  
Tuvok hesitated. "When I finish this." And he took another sip.  
  
  
* * * *   
  
Never again, Tom promised himself. Never again would he volunteer to command the Bridge. Not if it meant spending hours watching others when he could be doing something else. Like being at   
the helm. Or spending those hours with his wife. And if B'Elanna ever suggests he volunteer again, he   
would resist. Even if she threw her naked body at his in a suggestive manner. Which is exactly how she managed to convince him the last time, while they were in the shower together. Tom sighed, remembering his wife's wet and soft . . .   
  
"It is now 17:45 hours, Lieutenant." The announcement came from the former Borg adolescent, who now manned the Engineering station. Just recently, Icheb had received permission from Captain Janeway to receive academic preparation for Starfleet Academy. Both B'Elanna and Seven had suggested he spend some time on the Bridge.  
  
Tom quickly erased memories of B'Elanna and glanced at the young man. "Thanks for the information, Icheb," he commented wryly. "But you don't have to announce the time every fifteen minutes."  
  
"Everyone's attention seemed to be diverted by the chronometer," Icheb continued in his matter-of-fact manner. "I thought if I announce the time, everyone would stop looking at it and maintain their attention to their duties." The Bridge's other occupants squirmed with discomfort. Including Tom. "Does this have something to do with the festivities inside Holodeck One?"  
  
Tom bit back a sigh. There was nothing more relentless than a curious ex-Borg. Might as well tell the truth. "Yes, Icheb. We're all waiting for the shift to end, so we can join the others for the St. Patrick's Day festival." He paused. "Why don't you join us? Seven will be there."  
  
Disappointment illuminated Icheb's dark eyes. "I'm afraid not, Lieutenant. Seven is only there, because Captain Janeway requested her presence. And she believes that frivolous time spent inside the holodeck is irrelevant. Especially now that I'm preparing for Starfleet Academy. I am scheduled to join Seven in Astrometrics upon the end of the shift."  
  
Trust Seven to put a damper on a young man's social life, Tom thought morosely. The former drone's educational schedule for Icheb eerily reminded him of his own experiences with Owen Paris. Maybe he should have a talk with Seven about Icheb's recreational needs. And if that fails, Tom felt that the Captain would find the subject interesting.  
  
Several minutes passed before Icheb made his next announcement. "It is now 18:00 hours, Lieutenant Paris." Which meant that the shift had ended. All eyes automatically fell upon the doors for the turbolift. No one entered. Tom frowned. He had expected stragglers from the festival, but Tuvok had been scheduled to relieve him. And like Seven-of-Nine, the Vulcan was notorious for being prompt.  
"Let's give them a few more minutes," Tom said. One minute passed. Two minutes. Then five. When the chronometer read 18:15 hours, Tom tapped his combadge. "Bridge to Tuvok." No answer. Again, he attempted to contact the Vulcan. "Paris to Tuvok. Please respond." When Tuvok failed to respond a second time, Tom let out an exasperated sigh. He stood up and started for the turbolift doors. "Ensign Ayala," he said to the former Maquis-turned-Security officer, "you have the Bridge. I'll be inside Holodeck One, if you need me." And he disappeared inside the turbolift.  
  
* * * *   
  
The doors to Holodeck One slid open and Tom stepped into the world of Fair Haven. One glance around the bustling activity around him, told the pilot that the St. Patrick's Day festival was a success. Everyone seemed to be enjoying him or herself. He spotted a couple against the tavern's wall, grinding their half-dressed bodies against each other's. Maybe some were enjoying themselves too much.  
  
Gay laughter caught Tom's attention. He spun around and found one of the pilots under his command, Pablo Baytart, enjoying the attentions of two village maidens in an alley between the local haberdashery and the butcher's shop. Three townsfolk and two Starfleeters staggered about the village square in a group, bellowing drinking songs out loud. Tom frowned. What on earth was going on?  
  
"Lieutenant Paris! Tom!" A familiar figure stumbled forward and threw an arm around the pilot's shoulders. "You finally arrived! What took you so long?" Crewman Mortimer Harren shot Tom a bleary grin.  
  
Tom gave the usually anti-social engineer a wary smile. He still had not forgotten the other man's caustic response after he had offered his friendship. "I'm surprised to see you here. I didn't think hobnobbing with the crew was your forte."  
  
The engineer giggled. "It isn't. The good captain had insisted I participate in the festivities. Now I'm glad she did." Another giggle followed. "Say, have you tasted Neelix's Valax, yet?"  
  
"No, I haven't." Tom surreptiously removed Harren's arm. "How is it?"  
  
"It's sublime!" Harren giggled once more. "Get it? Sublime! Can you imagine me using such a word?"  
  
Oh Lord! Tom thought. Not only was Harren a jerk, but has a lousy sense of humor, as well. The pilot scanned the village, searching for Neelix's booth. He saw it, but not the Talaxian. Damn! He had hoped to dump Harren on the morale officer. "Where, uh . . . where is Neelix?"  
  
"He ran out of Valax and left to fetch some more." Harren leaned forward, clutching Tom's left shoulder. "By the way, I never did offer my congratulations on your recent marriage. You're one lucky man." He leaned toward Tom's ear and added in a sotto voice, "If you know what I mean. How many men are lucky enough to share a warm bed with a Klingon woman, eh?"  
  
Tom grabbed Harren's hand and gave it a slight twist. "I believe you're getting a little too personal, Mort. Don't you think?" The cheerfulness in the pilot's voice failed to reach his eyes.  
  
Harren's own eyes grew wide with fear and he stumbled back as Tom released him. "Uh, so . . . so sorry 'bout that, Lieutenant. I . . . uh, I . . . I wondered where Maggie went. Excuse me!" He quickly staggered away.  
  
His temper restored, Tom straightened his uniform and entered Michael Sullivan's pub. The moment he stepped inside, a blast of fiddler's music hit his ears. Tom's eyes focused on the group of   
Voyager crewmen and Fair Haven townsfolk engaged in a dance. At another corner of the pub sat Ensign Chapman, fast asleep. And both Janeway and the EMH stood near the unconscious officer, obviously in the middle of an animated conversation. However, there was no sign of Tuvok.  
  
Tom approached the bar. "Hi Michael," he said, flashing a smile to the rugged barkeep. "Has Tuvok been here? I'm looking for him."  
  
The Irishman shot Tom a dark look. "Why? Is Katie looking for him?"  
  
"Katie?" It took Tom another moment to reconcile the nickname with his commanding officer. "Oh, you mean the Captain! No, I'm the one looking for Tuvok. Have you . . .?"  
  
"Where's the food?"  
  
Tom blinked. "Huh?" Michael's question had caught him offguard. He was also beginning to wonder if he had drifted into some strange world. Or a bad dream. Tuvok was missing. Mortimer Harren acting like a horse's ass. . . Wait! That was normal for the loner. What was abnormal was Harren's friendly behavior. In fact, many of the people inside the Holodeck - both organic and photonic - seemed to be acting peculiar. Almost drunk. And now Tom had Michael Sullivan shooting glares at him that bordered on homicidal.  
  
The pub owner slammed a glass on the bar and growled, "The food, Boyo! Katie sent you to get her a plate of corned beef and cabbage from the Ox and Tail. Frankly, I don't see why she needs you to get it."  
  
"Look Michael," Tom gave the Irishman an apologetic smile, "I have no idea what you're talking about. I just came from the Bri . . . uh, my ship and . . ."  
  
Strong hands grabbed Tom's jacket, forcing the pilot to lean over the bar. "Don't play with me, Tommy Boy! It's bad enough seeing you and Katie snuggling with each other, despite you being a married man. But don't think you can treat me like a fool!"  
  
"What the hell are you talking about?" Tom demanded, releasing himself from Michael's grip. He had to get away from this madman! "Before we start fighting over nothing, could you please tell me what's going on? And give me a drink, while you're at it. Preferably Neelix's Valax."  
  
Glaring at the pilot, Michael picked up the glass from the bar, filled it with a brown liquid from a barrel labeled VALAX and slid the glass to Tom. Just as the pilot raised the glass to his lips, a voice cried out, "No! No! Don't drink that!" A hand belonging to the Doctor knocked the glass to the floor.   
  
"Doc!" Tom cried out in exasperation. Now this was the last straw! "What the hell did you do that for?"  
  
The EMH anxiously explained, "That . . . that Valax, or whatever it is, is poison! It's causing a great number of people to act strange." A second figure appeared beside the Doctor. A smile that struck Tom as unusually sultry curved Janeway's lips. A bad feeling began to niggle in the back of the pilot's mind. The Doctor sighed. "Including the Captain."   
  
"Lieutenant Paris." Janeway immediately latched herself upon the pilot. "What happened to my corned beef?"  
  
Confusion whirled in Tom's brain. Corned beef? A side glance at Michael Sullivan's furious face told him not to expect help from that quarter. "Uh, Captain? What corned beef? I just got here."  
  
"Captain?" Another voice caught the foursome's attention. Tom's eyes widen at the sight of . . . him. A second Tom Paris, dressed in late 19th century costume and holding two platters of corned beef,   
cabbage and potatoes. Déjà vu struck Tom with the force of a plassma storm. Seeing his double reminded him of Tuvok's "Alpha Insurrection" program and his encounter with another holographic Tom.  
  
Before anyone could comment, Janeway ordered, "Computer, delete the Tom Paris character."  
  
"Acknowledged," the computer's voice replied. And Tom Paris II, along with the food, dematerialized.  
  
Janeway tightened her grip on Tom's arm. "That's better," she added huskily. "I've always found the real thing more interesting than fiction. Don't you?" The auburn-haired captain glanced up at him with come hither eyes. Tom could not think of a damn thing to say. In less than ten minutes, he had received more shocks than he could ever remember.  
  
"That's it!" Michael's growl snapped Tom out of his shock. "I've taken all I can." The tavern keeper marched around the bar and stood in front of Tom and Janeway. "Now get your bloody hands off Katie!"  
  
"I wish I could help you, but her hands are on me!" Tom protested. He struggled to break free from the Captain's grip. "Captain . . . Captain, could you . . ." Before he could finish, Michael forcibly wrenched Tom out of Janeway's grip. Then without warning, he swung a fist at the pilot. Fortunately, Tom possessed quick reflexes and ducked. And instead, the fist smashed into the Doctor's face, sending the latter sinking to the floor unconscious.  
  
"Doc!" Tom cried out. He glanced at the EMG's inert figure, before turning on Michael. "What the hell have you done?"  
  
The pub owner began sheepishly, "I . . . I'm sorry Tommy . . ." Before he could finish, a bottle smashed upon his head. Michael fell heavily upon the floor. Janeway stood above him, brandishing a broken piece of glass. Smiling.  
  
"Now that we've gotten rid of distractions," the Captain cooed, as she grabbed hold of Tom's arm once more, "how about a little relaxation? My quarters with a bottle of Valax, some of that jazz music you like so much, myself and thou." Her voice dropped a decibel or two.  
  
To Tom's utter relief, Neelix appeared inside the pub, carrying several bottles. "I'm back everyone! And with a few more bottles of Va . . ." He paused as his eyes surveyed the two figures on the floor and Janeway, clutching an anxious Tom. "Good heavens! What is going on here?"  
  
"Neelix!" Anxiety and relief mingled in Tom's voice. He removed the Captain's hands from his arm in a not-so-gently manner. A frown appeared on her face, but Tom ignored it. "Neelix, am I glad to see you. I need help." He knelt beside the EMH.  
  
The Talaxian placed the bottles on the bar and knelt beside Michael. "How did this happen? Was there a fight?"  
  
Tom slapped the Doctor's face. "Somewhat." He paused. "Michael punched him . . . while trying to punch me. C'mon Doc! Wake up!"  
  
"Why don't we try a stimulant?"  
  
Feminine hands clamped around Tom's arm. "I can think of another kind of stimulant," Janeway's husky voice purred.  
  
Tom immediately shrugged the Captain off. Gods, he hoped she would forget this moment when she became sober. "I'm going to try something the Doc once used on me. Step back." He leaned closer toward the Doctor, his face inches away from the latter. "Doc! Doc? HEY DOC! WAKE UP!"  
  
The shout brought the EMH into a sitting position, with eyes wide open. "Wha . . . Huh? I . . ." He glanced around, wearing a dazed expression. "Mister Paris, what happened?"  
  
"You got in the way of Michael's fist, Doc. I guess you didn't have time to desolidfy yourself." Tom nodded at the unconscious pub owner. "As for Michael . . . uh, let's just say that the Captain came to my rescue with a bottle of Valax."  
  
Mention of the Talaxian drink brought the Doctor to full consciousness. "Valax?" His dark eyes blazed at Neelix. "You! That drink!"  
  
"Me?" Neelix blinked. "Is there something wrong with the Valax, Doctor?"  
  
The Doctor snapped back, "Of course there's something wrong! It's poi . . . don't touch that!" He directed his last cry to Janeway, who now held a glass of Valax. "Don't let her drink that!"  
  
Tom helped the EMH from the floor. "It's a bit late, don't you think, Doc?" From the corner of his eye, he saw the Captain empty the glass in three gulps. "Besides, it's obvious she's had more than one drink already. What we should do is find out how the Valax affects everyone."  
  
"Mr. Neelix!" The Doctor glared at the Talaxian. "What exactly did you put in that drink?"  
  
After stuttering a bit, Neelix finally replied, "No . . . Nothing, Doctor! It's just fermented Leola root. That's all!"  
  
"With synthehol, of course."  
  
Neelix's eyes shifted back and forth. Tom could have sworn he saw guilt swirling inside them. "You did add synthehol in the Valax, didn't you Neelix?"  
  
"Well . . ." Again, the Talaxian hesitated. "I did . . . at least at first I did."  
  
"At first?" The Doctor's expression grew agitated. Tom tried to calm him down. Ordered him to take a deep breath. Which the Doctor did. He continued, "What did you mean by . . . at first?"  
  
Neelix nervously cleared his throat. "Well, I made some Valax with synthehol. And to be honest, it just tasted awful! Since I didn't want to disappoint everyone, I decided to make the genuine stuff. Everyone seemed to like it."  
  
"And that's not all!" the Doctor bellowed. "No wonder everyone has been acting bizarre! That . . . that poison must be more potent than any alcohol native to the Alpha Quadrant!"  
  
The Talaxian stated otherwise. "On the contrary Doctor, the Valax is less potent. Why your Earth whiskey contains more alcohol than Valax. I looked it up in the computer's database. Besides, I've had three helpings, myself and it's barely affected me at all."  
  
"Then why is everyone else acting so strange?" Tom asked. Again, he noticed Janeway helping herself to another glass of Valax. She knelt beside Michael Sullivan's body and began to stroke his forehead in a not-so-motherly manner.  
  
Neelix shrugged. "I have no idea."  
  
"Obviously, fermented Leola root is more potent to those not used to it," the Doctor grumbled, shooting the Talaxian with one last glare. "Including natives of the Alpha Quadrant." He sighed. "How I wish I never heard of Leola root."  
  
Tom immediately took charge of the situation. He ordered the Doctor to return to Sick Bay and find an antidote to the Valax. Meanwhile, he and Neelix will round up all of the crewmen who attended the festival. "It shouldn't be too hard," he added. "Most of them are probably somewhere inside the Holodeck. I'll have Ayala send a few Security people to help us." Tom lifted his hand to activate his combadge when a sudden movement nearly lifted him off his feet. "What was that?"  
  
"Bridge to Paris" the combadge chirped.  
  
Tom responded, "Go ahead."  
  
"An ion storm caught us by surprise. We need you on the Bridge." Ayala's voice paused. "And Commander Tuvok, if he's available."  
  
"Unfortunately, the commander is no where to be found. Oh and Mike? Send a few people from Security to Holodeck One. Neelix will explain."  
  
Ayala acknowledged the order and ended the transmission. The ship rocked once more. Tom faced the other two. "I have to return to the Bridge. The ship's external sensors are down and we have an ion storm to deal with. Neelix, start searching for any missing crewmen. You'll have help from Security." He started to turn away.  
  
"Tom! Where are you going?" Janeway abandoned the Irishman and rushed to the pilot's side. Once more, the ship rocked, hurling her and Tom against the bar's edge. The Captain grabbed his arm.  
  
Slowly and deliberately, Tom extracted himself from Janeway's grip. "I have to go now, Captain. There's a bit . . ."  
  
"Kathryn," she purred.  
  
Tom's eyes flew open. "Captain?"  
  
"My name is Kathryn. And you're Tom." Gray eyes radiated heat.  
  
Tom didn't know whether to be embarrassed or aroused by his captain's sudden interest in him. In other words, it was time to make his escape. He flashed Janeway with his mega-watt smile. "Okay, Kathryn. Uh listen, I have an emergency on the Bridge. But I'll be back." After patting her arm, Tom   
finally made his escape toward the exit. "Let's go Doc!"  
  
The EMH rushed forward to join Tom, muttering, "Captain Proton to the rescue." Unfortunately for him, Tom heard the remark.  
  
"I'll remember that Doc, the next time you try to talk me into a double-shift in Sick Bay so you can spend more time in the holodecks." Tom shot the Doctor with an evil grin and the pair left the Holodeck.  
  
END OF PART 1 


	2. Chapter 2

"WHEN IRISH EYES ARE TALAXIAN - Part 2"  
  
  
Several minutes later, Tom emerged from the turbolift and stepped onto the Bridge. Actually, he stumbled after Voyager rocked from an encounter with an ion particle. He steadied himself and barked in Janeway style, "Report!"  
  
Ayala rose from the Command chair. "The ship is still in the middle of the ion storm," he replied. "With the external sensors off-line, we weren't able to avoid it in time. And I've sent Andrews to Holodeck One with a Security detail." A frown creased the tall man's brow. "By the way, why are they needed there?"  
  
"I'll tell you later," Tom shot back. He eased into the Command chair and addressed the crewman standing behind the Ops station. "Holman, where is that storm coming from?"  
  
Holman informed Tom that the ion storm was moving at 43 degrees from the board. And that the storm had damaged Voyager's hull. With that information, Tom ordered the shields at full maximum and instructed the pilot at the Conn to follow the storm's direction.  
  
"Sir?" Wide blue eyes stared at Tom. He saw the fear and anxiety expressed on Ensign Jenkins' face. "I . . . I don't know . . . I mean . . ."  
  
Following Janeway's example, Tom stood up and walked down to the Conn station. He placed a hand on his subordinate's shoulder. "Don't worry, Liz. I understand. This is your first ion storm. So, we'll just take it one step at a time. Okay?" He flashed a reassuring smile at Jenkins. Who immediately relaxed.  
  
It took them nearly a half hour to ride the storm. Once Voyager entered clear space, everyone on the Bridge visibly relaxed and heaved sighs of relief. Tom complimented Jenkins on her piloting skills. Then he faced the rest of the Bridge crew. "I realize all of you are anxious to end your shift," he continued, "but I'm afraid you'll have to remain on the Bridge a little longer." Groans and murmurs filled the Bridge. "It seems a . . . situation has developed in the Holodeck."  
  
Ayala frowned and stared at Tom. "Lieutenant?"  
  
Tom nodded toward the Captain's Ready Room and the two men left the Bridge. Once inside the smaller room, Tom revealed what had occurred during the festivities. The former Maquis' eyes grew round, until they nearly popped out of his sockets by the time Tom finished. Although the acting Captain had left out Janeway's actions, Ayala seemed completely shocked by the whole story. "You've got to be kidding!" he managed to utter. "You mean to say that two-thirds of the crew are drunk?"  
  
"I suppose you can call it that," Tom replied. "To be honest, not all of them seem drunk. Just a little odd." The Captain's overt attempts of seduction popped into his head. He began to wonder how B'Elanna had reacted to the Valax. "That's why I had you send a Security team to help Neelix gather the crew. Doc is working on a new kind of inaprovaline to counter it and I . . ." His combadge beeped.  
  
"Neelix to Paris"  
  
Tom responded, "Go ahead, Neelix."  
  
The Talaxian explained that he and the Security team had managed to round up several of the partygoers. "Unfortunately, a good number of them have left the Holodeck, including Ensign Kim, Seven, Commander Chakotay, B'Elanna and a few others. We could use more help in finding them."  
  
"You've got it," Tom quickly replied. "As soon as I check on the Doc in Si . . ."  
  
Loud noises from his combadge interrupted Tom. They were soon followed by a cry from Neelix. "Oh my heavens! Commander, what are doing?"  
  
Tom and Ayala exchanged glances. "Neelix," the former continued, "what's going on in there?"  
  
"Uh, it's nothing, Tom. Just Commander Tuvok climbing onto one of the tables. I gather he is about to give us a taste of Vulcan culture." A quick cough followed. "I'll get back to you later, Tom. Neelix out."  
  
"Neelix?" No reply came from Tom's combadge. He heaved a sigh and faced Ayala. "You might as well return to the Bridge, Mike. I think you're going to be there for quite a while. Meanwhile, I'll go and see what the hell is going on."  
  
* * * *  
  
It had not been difficult for Neelix and the Security Team to track down most of the missing Starfleet partygoers. Since most of them were roaming about the Fair Haven simulation, the searchers managed to round up many Starfleeters inside Michael Sullivan's pub. Yet, several of the partygoers remained elusive - including the majority of the Senior Staff. Neelix conveyed this information when he contacted Tom.   
  
While he talked with the Chief Pilot, loud cheers caught Neelix's attention. He glanced up and to his shock, saw Lieutenant-Commander Tuvok climbed upon one of the tables. "Attention everyone!" the usually stoic Vulcan cried out.  
  
More shock followed when Tuvok removed his Starfleet jacket, while onlookers whistled and clapped. "Oh my heavens!" Neelix cried out. "Commander! What are you doing?"  
  
Tom's voice demanded over the combadge, "Neelix, what's going on in there?"   
  
Time to nip this little problem in the bud. Neelix quickly placated Tom, explaining that Tuvok had climbed upon one of the tables. He did not bother to include Tuvok removing the jacket, much to the pleasure of others. Especially the women. "I'll get back to you later, Tom. Neelix out."  
  
The moment he broke contact with Tom, Neelix rushed over to the Security Chief standing on the table. "Mr. Vulcan, please! Stop making an exhibition of yourself!" Tuvok ignored Neelix's pleading and proceeded to remove the gray tunic. "Mr. Vulcan! Tuvok!"  
  
Strong hands grabbed Neelix's arm and dragged him away from the table. Hands that belonged to Sue Nicoletti, one of Voyager's top engineers. "Let him finish whatever he was doing, Neelix," she said in a voice huskier than usual. "It's so rare to see Tuvok so . . . so open like this." Her blue eyes glistened with lust.  
  
"Lieutenant, I have to stop this. Commander Tuvok doesn't realize what he . . ." A gray turtleneck shirt soared in the air and landed on Neelix's head. Laughter filled the pub. The Talaxian removed the offending shirt and glanced up. Tuvok now wore his gray undershirt, black pants and nothing else. He had already removed his boots and socks.  
  
The Vulcan stood upright on the table, his legs slightly apart and hands on hips. "Since today is a holiday . . ." It amazed Neelix that in a state of intoxication, Tuvok could still project a dignified appearance. ". . . I will perform a song beloved on my homeworld. It is called 'Falor's Journey'." He cleared his voice and began to sing in a soft, deep voice.  
  
Again, Neelix rushed toward the singing officer, only to be stopped by several hands. Andrews and the other Security were even less successful. Determined to end the exhibition, Neelix turned to another source. He pushed his way through the crowd and stopped before the fiddler who had began to accompany Tuvok. Neelix attempted to tear the instrument from the hologram's hand, but others shoved him away and he found himself as frustrated as ever.  
  
"Neelix, what is going on?" The Talaxian found Captain Janeway at his side. Her hands were busy fastening the buttons along the front of her blouse. Even more amazing were the strands of hair that had escaped her bun. Her eyes fell upon the Security chief in the center of the pub. "Oh. I thought I recognized 'Falor's Journey'. What verse is Tuvok now singing?"  
  
Stunned by the Captain's disheveled appearance and the events of the past few minutes, Neelix hesitated. "Huh? Oh, uh, I have no idea."  
  
"I can tell you that you're in for a long performance. There are 348 verses in 'Falor's Journey'. Why is he half-dressed?"  
  
I can ask the same about you, Neelix silently added. "To be honest, Captain, I have no idea. I tried to stop him."  
  
"Why? He looks comfortable." A predatory light gleamed in Janeway's eyes as she continued to stare at Tuvok. "And I'm not complaining."  
  
The Captain's rejoinder knocked Neelix into a loop. What was going on here? And what happened to Tom and the Doctor? They were supposed to help him.  
  
"By the way," the Captain continued, "where is the delectable Mr. Paris? Why hasn't he returned?"  
  
Neelix nervously explained that Tom had an emergency to deal with on the Bridge.   
  
"Still?" The Captain's eyes remained on Tuvok. "And Chakotay? Where is he?"  
  
"Actually, I don't know, Captain. I've been searching for him and the other senior staff members." Neelix's eyes scanned the pub. "I suppose the Commander is back in his quarters." I hope so, the Talaxian thought. Then he caught sight of Michael Sullivan entering from the pub's back room. Like the Captain, he looked relaxed and slightly disheveled. "I see that Mr. Sullivan is available."  
  
Janeway acknowledged the Irishman's presence with a sultry glance. "I've already had my brief moment in the sun with Mr. Sullivan." Her eyes returned to Tuvok. "Besides, it's time to move on to other pastures." A lavacious smile spread across her face.  
  
Her remark shocked Neelix. "Captain! What are you . . .?"  
  
"Paris to Neelix," chirped the Talaxian's combadge. "Neelix? Neelix, are you there? What the hell is going on?"  
  
Neelix let out a long sigh and answered, "Nothing at the moment, Tom. Everything is fine. Where are you?" Tom replied that he was on his way to Holodeck One. "Oh, don't bother. I have everything under control." He glanced at the Captain, who seemed very interested in his conversation. "I'll meet you in . . ." Neelix broke off when he caught sight of a familiar figure standing in the doorway. A wide-eyed Naomi Wildman. "Uh, Tom, I'll get back to you, later. Something's come up. Neelix out." He deactivated his combadge before Tom could respond.  
  
Forgetting Tom, the Captain, Tuvok and just about everyone else, Neelix rushed toward the young half-Ktarian. "Naomi! What are you doing here? Aren't you suppose to be back in your quarters by now, with your mother?"  
  
Naomi's small mouth formed a pout. "Mom is still on the Bridge. And Icheb is in Engineering. Besides, I'm lonely. Why can't I stay here?" Her eyes focused on the singing Vulcan. "And why is Tuvok singing, dressed like that?"  
  
Noticing his goddaughter's glance, Neelix grabbed hold of her shoulders and swerved her around. "You shouldn't be here. It's not safe. Especially with everyone acting strange. Now, why don't you say good-bye to the Captain and . . ."  
  
"Where is she?"  
  
Neelix glanced at the spot where he had left the Captain. And noticed that she had disappeared. A careful scrutiny of the pub revealed that she was no where to be found. Oh no! The Talaxian tapped his combadge. "Neelix to Paris."  
  
A heavy sigh echoed over the combadge. "Paris here! Neelix, what's going on? Why did you cut me off like that?"  
  
The Talaxian explained Naomi's sudden appearance inside the Holodeck. "There's another problem, Tom."  
  
"What?" Even the combadge failed to disguised the pilot's exasperated tone.  
  
Neelix continued, "It seems another member of the senior staff has gone missing. It's Captain Janeway."  
  
* * * *   
  
At that moment, it seemed that the Universe had turned against Thomas Eugene Paris - again. He had already survived a great deal in his life - being the only son of Owen Paris, disappointment at being forced to enroll in Starfleet, Caldik Prime, the Maquis, prison, being hurled into the Delta Quadrant, the Warp 10 flight, Seska and the Kazon, the Atkirian prison with Harry, the Borg, the Hirogen, that damn DNA-snatching alien, B'Elanna's depression, his demotion, Alice, the war memorial on Tarakis, the Borg again . . . Tom sighed. The Universe certainly had a lot to answer for. And now this.  
  
After so many years of avoiding voluntary command of the Bridge, he had finally agreed to a little experience in the Big Chair. And what happens? He misses part of the St. Patrick's Day celebration in the Fair Haven simulation - a celebration that happened to be his idea. Voyager drifts into an ion storm and the ship's external sensors are damaged. And now, he learns that Neelix had served a non-synthehol drink to the crew, causing them to behave erratically. What else could go wrong?  
  
The moment those last words flashed through Tom's mind, the turbolift's doors slid open. He stepped out and ran smack into a soft body in white and teal. "What the . . .?" Tom murmured. He shook his head before his eyes focused on the figure of a sprawled on the floor. One of the Delaney twins. Which one, Tom had no idea.  
  
The young beauty wore a 19th century white blouse and teal skirt that fitted her body nicely. She glanced up at Tom and smiled. Dimples formed on each cheek. Ah! Now he knew! "Gods, Jenny! I'm sorry. I didn't see you coming. Here, let me help you . . ."  
  
"I'm Megan," slurred the Delaney twin.  
  
Tom blinked. "Huh? Oh, sorry about that." He reached down and grabbed her hand. Intending to pull Megan to her feet, Tom found himself being jerked to the floor. "Hey!" He sprawled on top of her.  
  
Megan gave Tom a seductive smile and began to giggle. "Oh Tommy," she whispered in his ear, "it's me, Megan." A faint odor of alcohol reached Tom's nostrils. She grabbed his jacket front. "Tom-my! Tommy Boy! Come play with me." Megan stuck her tongue into his ear.  
  
"Jenny! What the hell are you doing?" Tom jerked his head away and attempted to free himself from the young officer's strong grip.  
  
"I'm Megan, silly boy! And stop fighting! C'mon Tommy Boy! Why don't you put on that tight, sexy Captain Proton outfit of yours, so we can explore where every man and woman have gone before." Another burst of giggles followed.  
  
Tom rolled his eyes. There was nothing worse than hearing one's old pick-up line from someone else's mouth. "Jen . . . uh, Megan, this is no way for a Starfleet officer to behave!" He continued in his attempts to free himself from the young woman's grip Unfortunately, he found himself losing the struggle. Christ! Megan seemed to have the strength of ten drunken Klingons on shore leave. Or a pon-farred Vulcan out of control.  
  
Female arms looped around his neck in a vise-like grip. Megan inched her puckered lips toward Tom's face. A little voice inside his head murmured, "Might as well give in, Tom. One little kiss won't hurt. And it will probably get her off your back." However, another inner voice argued, "Are you out of your mind, Paris? Kissing another woman behind your half-Klingon wife's back? You might as well commit suicide!"  
  
Survival instincts kicked in and Tom's common sense returned. He made another attempt to pull away from Megan's grip, but she continued to put up a strong resistance. "Megan, let go of . . ."  
  
"Tom?" He did not recognize the quivering tone, but he certainly recognized that voice. Tom closed his eyes, praying that he might be mistaken. Then he opened them and focused on a lilac skirt - the same skirt he had coerced B'Elanna into wear to the festival. As his life began to flash through his mind, Tom glanced up into the pair of sable eyes that belonged to his wife. "Tom, what are you doing?"  
  
Tom smiled weakly. "Uh, B'Elanna, let me explain . . ."  
  
"What's going on?" Expecting a swift kick to the skull, Tom frowned at the melancholy tone that seemed so unlike B'Elanna. "Are you two . . .?"  
  
Tom struggled to his feet. Or tried. Megan maintained a strong grip around his waist. "B'Elanna, it's not what you think. Let me . . . Megan! Will you please let go of me? Let me explain, B'Elanna. I had just stepped off the turbolift and ran straight into Me . . ."  
  
A strangled sob escaped B'Elanna's throat, catching Tom by surprise. He had never heard such a depressing sound. "Oh Tom! Why? Why do this to me now? Is she the first?"  
  
"No! No, no! B'Elanna you go it all wrong!" Tom crawled toward his wife. "This is purely a misunderstanding! Nothing . . ." He swatted Megan's busy hands away from his rear end. "Nothing's going on!" The turbolift's doors swished open again. Tears flowed from B'Elanna's eyes as she picked up her skirts and fled into the lift. "B'Elanna? B'Elanna!" But the doors closed in his face before he could reach her.  
  
* * * *   
  
  
Tom reasoned that he had no time to search the entire ship for his wayward wife. Especially with over half of Voyager's crew acting like escapees from a lunatic asylum. His first priority was to deliver the very randy Megan Delaney to Sick Bay. Only how would he accomplish this?  
  
An idea finally came to him. Tom stood up and forced Megan to her unsteady feet. While she gripped his arms, weaving back and forth, he whispered in her ear, "Say Jen . . . uh, Megan, instead of hanging around here, I know where we can find some privacy. And play Captain Proton and Demonica to our hearts' content. What do you say?" Tom gave the stellar cartographer his most intimate smile  
  
Lo and behold, it worked. Megan's bleary eyes lit up with desire. "Hmmm, your place or mine?" she slurred. A giggle escaped her lips.  
  
Tom struggled to keep his eyes from rolling. He took a deep breath. God, this was hard! "Actually," he continued to whisper, "I was thinking of Sick Bay. We'll have soft lights and plenty of beds to choose from." Then he leaned forward and nipped Megan's earlobe. B'Elanna, he prayed inwardly, forgive me. "And plenty of privacy. The Doc's still in Holodeck One."  
  
Again, Megan giggled. "Ooooh, now you're talking!" She grabbed the pilot's arm and dragged him along the corridor.  
  
Surprised by Megan's rough manhandling, Tom complained. "Gods, Megan! Why don't you just bash me on the head with a club and drag me by the hair to the nearest room?"  
  
"Don't be silly, Tommy!" A wide grin spread across Megan's face. "I'm not Klingon and you don't have enough hair for me to grab!"  
  
* * * *   
  
"Mister Paris," the Doctor greeted Tom in his usual curt manner. He cut short his next remark when his eyes focused on the figure of a Delaney twin gripping one the Chief Pilot's arms. His eyes narrowed. "What is this?"  
  
Tom dumped the squirming woman on one of the biobeds. "This is a Megan Delaney," he shot back. "I found her near one of the turbolifts on Deck 5. And I had one hell of a time getting her here. Now, about that antidote to the Valax," Tom heaved a sigh and straightened his uniform, "have you found one yet?"  
  
"As a matter of fact, I have." The Doctor picked up a hypospray from a nearby tray. "It's right here. It's an altered version of the usual inaprovaline I use for those who are intoxicated. And all I have to do is apply it to all of those who drank Mister Neelix's concoction after we round them up."  
  
"Will it work?"  
  
Will it work? After all the medical breakthroughs he had accomplished in the Delta Quadrant and the numerous times he had saved lives, someone had the nerve to question his ability? Affronted by Tom's question, the EMH glared at the pilot. "Of course it will work!" he snapped. "I happen to know what I'm doing, Mister Paris. Or have you forgotten . . .?"  
  
"No, Doc! I haven't forgotten about your programming. Or your great medical breakthroughs," Tom interrupted in a weary voice. "Now, will you please get on with it?"  
  
Impertinent! The Doctor seared his assistant with one more glare, heaved a sigh and pressed the hypospray against Ensign Delaney's neck. "She should be rendered unconscious any minute," he announced.  
  
A minute passed. Ensign Delaney, to the EMH's consternation, remained conscious. "Why are you two staring at me?" she slurred. "Tommy, I thought you said that the Doctor would be at the party?"  
  
Panic filled Lieutenant Paris' eyes. The Doctor would have been amused if he did not have other concerns. Namely, Ensign Delaney's failure to react to the drug. "Doc," the pilot added, "I thought you said she would be unconscious."  
  
The hologram frowned. "I don't understand! She should be. The inaprovaline is supposed to work immediately."  
  
Ensign Delaney's eyes grew round. "Don't understand what?" When the Doctor leaned forward to apply another shot from the hypospray, she flinched back. "What are you doing with that?"  
  
"Something's wrong," the Doctor grimly announced. "The inaprovaline isn't working."  
  
Tom muttered, "Maybe you should have tried coffee. That's always a good remedy for a hangover. Believe me, I know from experience."  
  
Coffee! The Doctor's holographic eyes lit up. "Of course! It would not hurt to try." After returning the hypospray back on the tray, he walked over to the replicator and ordered a copy of coffee. Once the drink materialized, he opened the hypospray and added two drops of the inaprovaline into the drink. "Here you go, Ensign," he said to the young woman, "drink this." The EMH handed her the coffee.  
  
Ensign Delaney shied away from the drink. "I don't want any," she whined. "I want more Valax!" She began to slip off the biobed. "Tommy! I thought you said we would be alone."  
  
Interesting, the Doctor thought, noting the pilot's embarrassed expression. Ensign Delaney seemed to be the second female under the influence of Valax, to express sexual interest in Tom Paris. The Doctor recalled how the Chief Pilot had to fight off Captain Janeway's advances inside the Holodeck. He had never taken Lieutenant Paris' reputation with women seriously before. For years he had assumed that reputation had been a creation of the pilot's imagination. Apparently, he had been wrong. Curious.  
  
The lieutenant took a deep breath and walked over to the wavering ensign, catching her before she could fall flat on her face. "We will be alone, Megan," Lieutenant Paris replied in a soft voice. "Just as soon as you drink some coffee." He paused, his face just inches away from Ensign Delaney's. A seductive smile touched his lips. "It has Valax in it. You know how you like Irish coffee."  
  
Ensign Delaney glanced at the coffee with a wrinkled nose. "It doesn't look like Irish coffee. Are you sure? Where's the whipped cream?" It amazed the hologram that a completely inebriated woman could be so picky.  
  
Still smiling, Tom took the coffee from the Doctor's hand. "But it's just as good. See?" He tipped the cup to his lips and tilt his head back. "Hmmm! Delicious! Try some."  
  
Only a person who was blind or too drunk would not have seen that Lieutenant Paris never took that sip of coffee. Fortunately, Ensign Delaney was too drunk. Her interest perked by Tom's feigned reaction, she grabbed the cup of coffee and drank in several gulps. Both the EMH and the pilot stared at her with great expectation. Ensign Delaney weaved slightly before . . .  
  
"That was delicious!" the ensign crowed. "May I have another cup?" She thrust the cup in front of the Doctor's face.  
  
The hologram turned a sour face toward the pilot. "So much for our 'hangover theory', Lieutenant. Any other bright ideas?"  
  
His eyes wide with innocence, Lieutenant Paris protested. "Don't look at me! I'm not the medical expert here! Maybe your little concoction doesn't work!"  
  
Doesn't work? The Doctor almost went into a hissy fit. After nearly six years in the Delta Quadrant, he could not recall any medical failures - aside from a handful of patients beyond any help. Of course, his antidote to the Valax worked! It had to. "Of course it works!" the Doctor snapped back. "I just need the right agent to administer the antidote."  
  
Tom retorted, "Well, why don't you try Neelix's godawful coffee? At least it's made of Leola root, like the Valax!" He paused and stared at the Doctor. Who returned the stare. Neelix's coffee. Of course!  
  
The Doctor tapped his combadge. "Sickbay to Neelix."  
  
"Neelix here," the Talaxian responded. "Is there something I can do for you, Doctor?"  
  
The hologram continued, "Yes, there is. Do you have any of your coffee available in the Mess Hall?"  
  
"Uh, well . . . not exactly. I meant to make some, but I never got around to . . ."  
  
"Go to the Galley and start making a new batch of coffee, Mister Neelix. Now, if you please."  
  
A pause followed before Neelix replied. "Well, shouldn't you be finding a remedy for the Va. . ."  
  
"The coffee, Mister Neelix! NOW! The Doctor out!" The hologram tapped his combadge one last time and sighed. Tiresome man!  
  
A drunken voice from the biobed whined, "Hey? What happened to my Irish coffee?"  
  
* * * *  
  
It did not take Neelix very long to brew a fresh pot of his special blend of coffee. He felt surprised, however, that someone would actually request a cup. Or a pot. Being a shrewd person, the crew's preference for replicated coffee over his own had not escaped his notice. Nor the pot of freshly brewed coffee that always seemed partially full. Even when Captain Janeway visited the Mess Hall.  
  
Neelix filled an empty canister with the brew. The doors to the Mess Hall slid open. "Seven," he greeted the newly arrived ex-Borg. "What are you doing here?"  
  
Seven-of-Nine slowly weaved as she walked toward the galley. "Neelix." She regarded the Talaxian with heavy-lidded eyes. Neelix noticed that she did not seem her usual precise self. "Have you seen . . .?" The former drone scanned the Mess Hall, wobbling on her high heels.  
  
"Seven, are you feeling well?" Neelix asked.  
  
The blond woman gripped the edge of the galley's counter to steady herself. Her usually confident voice now slurred. "Of course, I'm fine." She flapped her hand in the air. "I'm merely . . ." Again, she glanced around. A conspiratorial smile touched her lips. "I'm . . . I'm merely looking for some . . . have you seen the Commander?"  
  
One of Neelix's bushy brows quirked upward. "The Commander? You're looking for Commander Tuvok?"  
  
"No! No!" Seven shook her head. Several strands of her well-coiffered hair loosened. "Not that commander."  
  
The only other commander aboard Voyager happened to be the First Officer. Only why was the obviously inebriated Seven searching for Chakotay? "Ah! If you are referring to Commander Chakotay, I haven't seen . . ."  
  
Once more the Mess Hall's doors slid open. "Neelix!" A jovial Harry Kim burst into the room with one of the Delaney sisters on his arm. Which one, Neelix had no idea. Wearing a huge grin on his face, Ensign Kim continued, "There he is! The man of the hour! Say Neelix, do you have any more Valax around?" His eyes focused on the canister sitting on the galley's countertop. "Is that it?" Ensign Delaney giggled.  
  
Neelix sighed and replied, "Not exactly, Harry. This is coffee." He picked up the canister and shook it. "Would you and Ensign Delaney like a cup?"  
  
Harry dismissed the offer with a wave of his hand and leaned over the countertop. "Are you sure there's no Valax? Megan and I were looking forward to more." His eyes fell upon the ex-Borg. Harry smiled. "Seven! What are you doing here?"  
  
An annoyed expression flitted across Seven's face. She heaved a gust of breath. "Why is everyone so conce . . . con . . . concerned . . . over my pres-s-sence in the Mess Hall?"  
  
"I'm not," Jenny Delaney replied cattily. She received a glare from the former drone.  
  
Neelix added, "Actually, Seven is looking for Co . . ."  
  
"Who cares?" Harry said, interrupting the Talaxian. He leered at the blond woman, much to his companion's displeasure. "Say Seven, how about joining me for a little bottle of Valax in Holodeck Two?"  
  
"Hey!" Something like a cross between a pout and a frown appeared on Ensign Delaney's face. "What about me? I'd like some Valax! And you."  
  
Harry shrugged. "Okay. Both of you can join me. I won't mind."  
  
The stellar cartographer slapped the Ops officer's shoulder. "I would. I'm not in the habit of sharing my men!"  
  
Seven snorted, taking Neelix by surprise. He had never heard the ex-Borg snort before. "Why not?" she shot back. "It seems to be the only way you can attract a man."  
  
Something like a growl escaped Ensign Delaney's mouth. "Why you Borg bitch!" She released Harry's arm and started toward Seven with hands formed into claws.  
  
Time to end this fight before it starts, Neelix thought. Forever the diplomat, he stepped in between the two women. "Now ladies," he began, "there is no need for this fighting. It's unbecoming on a Starfleet ves. . ." Seven shoved him out of the way, causing Neelix to slam against the galley's counter. Soon, she and Megan were engaged in a catfight. By some miracle, Ensign Delaney managed to hold out against the former drone. Neelix wondered if the Valax had affected Ensign . . .  
  
The sound of rattling pots and pans cut into the Talaxian's thoughts. He glanced across the countertop and spotted Ensign Kim rummaging through his galley. "Ensign Kim. Harry! What are you . . . Harry, there is no more Valax!" Neelix sighed and realized that the young officer had not heard him. "Mister Kim! Please, I need your help." Realizing he would not receive any from the Ops Chief, Neelix tapped his combadge. "Neelix to Andrews. I need your help in the Mess Hall. There seemed to be a . . ." A fist snaked out and clipped the Talaxian's chin. Darkness soon followed.  
  
* * * *   
  
Yellow-orange eyes snapped open. Tom sighed with relief at the sight of his friend gaining conscious. "Neelix? Are you awake?"  
  
The Talaxian slowly eased into a sitting position. Blinked his eyes several times. "Where . . . where am I?" He glanced around.  
  
"Sick Bay," Tom replied. He explained that Ensign Andrews had responded to a summons from the Mess Hall. Which led to the discovery of an unconscious Neelix stretched across the floor. "He beamed you to Sick Bay. What happened?"  
  
Shock welled inside Tom, while Neelix revealed a fight between Seven-of-Nine and Jenny Delaney. Over Ensign Harry "Eager" Kim. Tom could not believe his ears.  
The Doctor, on the other hand, looked concerned. "Seven didn't injure Ensign Delaney, did she?"  
  
"No. I'd say that the fight was evenly matched." Neelix swung around, until his legs dangled from the biobed. The EMH pressed a hypospray filled with anglesic into his neck. "Surprisingly, Ensign Delaney managed to hold her own against Seven."  
  
Recalling his wrestling match against Megan Delaney, Tom was not surprised. Fermented Leola root mixed with alcohol, obviously brought out brute strength in female stellar cartographers of Irish descent. A voice from the other side of Sick Bay cried out, "That's my sister!" Megan erupted into a burst of giggles and then demanded a cup of Irish coffee.  
  
"Irish coffee?" Neelix repeated, looking confused.  
  
The Doctor dismissed the question with a wave. "Another Earth drink," he said airily. "Where is the coffee you were suppose to prepare?"  
  
"I guess . . ." Neelix glanced around once more and shrugged. "I guess it's still back in the Mess Hall. I could go get it . . ."  
  
Right on cue, the doors to Sick Bay slid open. The tall, dark figure of Ensign Andrews strode inside. "I came to check on Neelix," his deep voice rumbled. "He might be looking for these." Andrews held up a silver carafe in each hand.  
  
"The coffee!" Neelix cried happily. He took the carafes from Andrews and handed them to the EMH. "Here you go, Doctor. Of course, I'm still curious as to why you require my coffee."  
  
The Doctor sniffed. "You'll see." He filled a cup with Neelix's coffee and added several drops of the new inaprovaline from a hypospray. "Here you go, Ensign," he said, handing the cup to Megan. "It's that Irish coffee you wanted."  
  
Megan glanced at the cup in the Doctor's hand with suspicious eyes. "That doesn't look like coffee. And the whipped cream is still missing!"  
  
Tom decided it was time to butt in and took the coffee from the Doctor. "It doesn't need whipped cream," he added in a whisper. "This is Neelix's special blend of Irish coffee. With Valax." He gave Megan the full blast of his blue eyes. "Won't you try it for me? Please? I gave Neelix the recipe."  
  
"We-el-ll," Megan slurred. She smiled and burst into giggles. "All right, Tommy. Just for you."  
  
The Doctor muttered, "Oh please!" Tom seared him with a death glare worthy of Kathryn Janeway and Owen Paris, combined.  
  
Megan took a cautionary sip. "Hmm!"she murmured. "I can even taste the Valax." She then proceeded to consume the rest of the coffee. The four men held their breaths. Megan smiled and declared, "Now that's good coffee!" before she weaved slightly and slumped to the floor. The empty cup rattled beside her.  
  
"It worked!" the Doctor crowed.  
  
Both Neelix and Ensign Andrews looked confused. "What worked?" the former asked.  
  
Tom explained the Doctor's antidote for the Valax. "Apparently, this version of inaprovaline only works orally and with your coffee. How soon can you make more?"  
  
"I'll get on it right away," Neelix replied. He slipped off his biobed. "Meanwhile, I'll serve this coffee," he waved the other carafe in the air, "to Harry, Seven and Ensign Delaney in the Mess Hall."  
  
Andrews spoke up. "They're not there. At least they weren't when I found you."  
  
Tom sighed. The entire situation was fast transforming into a major headache. Harry, Seven and Jenny's disappearance meant more people to search for outside the Holodeck. He took the carafe that the Doctor held and handed it to Ensign Andrews. And he grabbed the other one from the Talaxian and placed several drops of inaprovaline inside. "Okay Neelix, you return to the Mess Hall and begin making more coffee. Doc, give him the inaprovaline, so he can add it into the coffee. Also, help us search for more stragglers. Neelix, once you finish making that coffee, get hold of the Security detail and all of you can serve it to those already inside Holodeck One. Meanwhile, Andrews and I will . . ."  
  
"Jarvis to Andrews," a female's voice crackled from the Security ensign's combadge. "I've found Lieutenant Torres."  
  
Before Andrews could respond, Tom interrupted. "Paris to Jarvis. Where is she?"  
  
"Inside Jeffries Tube 37, Deck 3."  
  
Tom ordered the computer to initiate a site-to-site transport of B'Elanna from the Jeffries tube to Sickbay. "Unable to comply," the computer's voice responded coolly. "Transporters are off-line."  
  
"One. . .two. . .three. . ." Tom muttered under his breath, utilizing the meditation exercises his wife had learned from Tuvok. He never thought he would have to use them. Until today. He finally calmed down and tapped his combadge. "Paris to Engineering. Can someone please explain why the transporters are down?"  
  
Joe Carey responded, "Sorry Tom, but we had to re-route power from the transporters and the replicator system. The ship's external sensors proved to be even more damaged than we thought. And that last ion storm also damaged part of the inertial dampners."  
  
"Wonderful." Tom turned to the others. "I'll be in Jeffries Tube 37 if any of you need me. Meanwhile, I suggest that all of you see to your tasks." He quickly marched out of Sickbay. Both Neelix and Andrews followed close at his heels. The trio soon came upon Turbolift 2 and Tom pushed the button to summon it. "I swear to God," he murmured under his breath, "if I have to go through another day like this . . ."  
  
Neelix asked, "Did you say something, Tom?"  
  
"Huh? Oh, nothing Neelix. I was just . . ." Tom immediately clamped his mouth shut as the turbolift doors opened. Sprawled inside was Voyager's answer to a male model - Ensign Larson. Who wore nothing below the belt and a satiated expression on his face.  
  
"Heavens!" Neelix exclaimed. "What happened to him?"  
  
Tom smirked. "Isn't it obvious? Looks like someone finally got his or her way with the ensign. Not that he seemed to be complaining."  
  
"What's that he's holding?" Andrews added. He stepped inside the lift and removed a small object from Larson's hand. "It looks like a hair comb. Does anyone know to whom it belongs to?" He held it up for the others to see.  
  
The smirk on Tom's face immediately disappeared. He had last seen that comb stuck in Kathryn Janeway's auburn tresses. And he was not the only one who recognized it. "That belongs to the Captain!" Neelix declared. "How did Larson . . .?"  
  
"I think we can pretty much guess how he got his hands on it," Tom curtly interrupted. He took the comb from Andrews and gave the other two men his version of the Paris stare. "Now, as far as we are all concerned, this never happened and we have no idea of who owns this comb or how it ended up with Larson. Clear?"  
  
Neelix frowned. "Yeah, but . . ."  
  
"I understand perfectly," Andrews replied stoically.  
  
The two Starfleet officers stared at Neelix. Who immediately caved under the hard stares. "Neelix?" Tom said. The Talaxian nodded and Tom relaxed. "Okay. Andrews, help me get Larsons to the Doc. And Neelix . . . well, you know what to do."  
  
While Tom and Andrews lugged the heavy ensign back to Sickbay, dark thoughts ran rampant through the pilot's mind. One day, he promised himself, somehow, he would pay B'Elanna back for talking him into volunteering for Command duty. And when he did, she had better look out.  
  
* * * *   
  
After he and Ensign Andrews delivered Larson to Sickbay, Tom headed for Jeffries Tube 37, on Deck 3. There, he found Crewman Jarvis standing next to the opened hatch. Tom heard loud sobbing emitting from inside. B'Elanna.  
  
"I don't know how long she's been here, Lieutenant," the tall woman said to Tom. "I was just passing by when I heard loud crying and found Lieutenant Torres inside. I tried to convince her to leave, but . . ." Jarvis ended her litany with a shrug.  
  
Tom nodded and climbed inside the Jeffries Tube. There he found his wife huddled against the tube's wall. Tears flowed from her eyes and she was using her skirt's hem to wipe them away. Tom sighed. This does not promise to be easy. "B'Elanna," he called softly. "B'Elanna, it's me. Tom. It's time to go."  
  
B'Elanna shot back in an emotional voice, "Leave me alone!" Ah, Tom thought to himself. It heartened him to hear a touch of Klingon in her tone.  
  
"I won't go away. You need help. The Valax that Neelix made is affecting you." Tom held out his hand. "C'mon. Why don't you join me? So you can get a little help."  
  
Sable eyes filled with tears, stared at Tom. "Why should I? You don't want me. You want . . ." Loud sobs filled the Jeffries tube. "You want he-e-er!"  
  
A thump against the tube's hatch reminded Tom that Crewman Jarvis stood just outside and could hear everything. He crawled back to the entrance and ordered the guard to join the search for other stragglers from the Holodeck.  
  
"But sir," Jarvis countered, "the transporters are down. Won't you need help in getting Lieutenant Torres to Sickbay?" Despite her words of assistance, Tom thought he detected curiosity and a touch of smugness in the guard's eyes. Jarvis seemed anxious learn the identity of 'her'.  
  
Tom retorted, "I can get her out on my own, Jarvis. Check with Neelix in the Mess Hall He might need your help."  
  
"But sir . . ."  
  
"That's an order, Crewman!" Tom barked in his best Paris command voice.  
  
The security guard flinched. "Yes sir." Then she gave Tom a nervous nod before leaving. Probably to spread the word to her fellow guards that Lieutenant Paris' roving eye had resurrected. Tom wondered how long it would take to live down this latest rumor-in-the-making.  
  
Another sob from B'Elanna interrupted Tom's thoughts. He crawled closer to his wife. "B'Elanna? B'Elanna, please! There's no 'her'. Just you and me. Sweetheart?"  
  
"Huh?" B'Elanna peered suspiciously through her tears. "What did you call me?"  
  
"What?"  
  
B'Elanna continued in a wavering voice. "You never called me 'sweetheart' before. Is that what you call . . . call Me-ea-gaa-an!" More sobs wracked her small frame.  
  
Tom sighed. He never realized that B'Elanna was capable of so many tears. "B'Elanna . . . B'El . . . B'Elanna, please stop crying! You have nothing to cry about! Nothing happened between Megan and me. I swear!" Loud sniffles from his wife followed Tom's declaration. He reached out to touch her arm. "B'Elanna . . ." She shrank back. "B'Elanna, I promise you there is nothing going on between me and Megan. Nor have I ever called her sweetheart."  
  
"Then why were . . . were you kissing her?"  
  
Tom took a deep breath. The memory of his wrestling match with Megan loomed in his mind. "I wasn't kissing her," he finally said. He crawled even closer to his wife. "I was . . . defending myself."  
  
B'Elanna replied in a passive whisper, "It didn't look like you were defending yourself."  
  
"For crying out loud, B'Elanna!" Tom's outburst caused B'Elanna to shrink back against the wall in a most un-Klingon manner. He quickly softened his tone. "I swear B'Elanna, I'm telling the truth. Megan had drunken too much Valax and began . . . well, she began groping all over me. She would have done a lot worse . . ." From a particular point of view, Tom thought inwardly. ". . . if I hadn't fought her off."  
  
Another sniffle followed. B'Elanna's dark eyes grew wide. "Honest?" Gods! She almost sounded like Naomi Wildman.   
  
Tom moved toward her until he was close enough to gather her in his arms. "Honest," he whispered back. Then he began to stroke her thick hair.  
  
"Tom?" B'Elanna pressed her face against his chest.  
  
He replied, "Hmmm?"  
  
"What's that next to you?"  
  
The Doc's new inapprovaline. Tom had almost forgotten. "It's uh, coffee. Irish coffee. With a little of Neelix's Valax in it." He paused momentarily. "Would you like some?"  
  
B'Elanna nodded childishly. "I like Neelix's Valax."  
  
She wasn't kidding, Tom later realized. Neelix's coffee, mixed with the Doctor's antidote must taste like Valax. Or coffee with Valax. The possibility relieved Tom. It meant that the others would not hesitate to drink the coffee. It took three cups of coffee to knock out B'Elanna. Tom had enough trouble drinking one swallow of the stuff without gagging. If that was how Valax taste, Neelix could keep it.  
  
Eyeing his unconscious wife, Tom tapped his combadge. "Paris to Engineering. Are the transporters systems back on-line?"  
  
"Negative," Carey responded. "They're still offline. But the inertia dampners are now working at 85%."  
  
Tom sighed. "That's thrilling to hear. Paris out." He glanced at B'Elanna's inert form and sighed once more. He seemed to be doing that a lot, lately. With the transporters offline, it seemed he had no choice but to carry his wife to Sickbay. Then he remembered. This Jeffries tube was located on the same deck as the Paris/Torres quarters. Leaving his wife in their bedroom would be a lot quicker and easier on his back. Still, it promised to be quite a haul. Tom wrapped an arm around B'Elanna's waist and began to haul her toward the tube's entrance. While muttering obscenities to the universe at large.  
  
END OF PART 2 


	3. Chapter 3

"WHEN IRISH EYES ARE TALAXIAN - Part 3"  
  
  
Less than ten minutes later, Tom carried B'Elanna inside their quarters, toward their bedroom. Just as he was about to lower her upon the large bed, the ship rocked, causing him to drop his wife on the bed. Miraculously, B'Elanna remained unconscious.  
  
Tom hit his combadge. "Paris to the Bridge. Was that another . . .?"  
  
"It's another ion storm, Lieutenant," Ayala finished. "This one seemed to be worst than the last."  
  
A sigh escaped Tom's lips. He seemed to be doing that a lot during these past few hours. "I'm on my way." Tom planted a light kiss on B'Elanna's forehead and left.   
  
He had barely stepped into the corridor when Neelix's voice chirped from his combadge. "Neelix to Paris. Tom, the coffee is ready. Crewman Jarvis and I are about to take it to Holodeck One. By the way, is there a problem with the ship?"  
  
"Just another ion storm, Neelix. Nothing to worry about." Tom rushed toward the nearest turbolift. "Don't forget to check out Holodeck Two for Harry, Seven and Jenny."  
  
Another voice crackled from Tom's combadge. The Doctor to Paris and Neelix. Ensign Andrews and I have already searched Holodeck Two. They are not there. I assume we must regard them again as lost sheep wondering about the ship."  
  
"Thanks for the clever similie, Doc," Tom replied in a tart voice. "Now will everyone . . ."  
  
"Perhaps Harry and the others returned to Holodeck One," Neelix cut in. "Has anyone thought of that?"  
  
The Doctor replied, "Something tells me that Ensign Kim won't make it that easy for us. But, I suppose it's possible that . . ."  
  
The ship rocked once more and Tom had enough of the speculative banter from the combadges. He interrupted in an exasperated voice, "Look, will everyone please get off the Com system, get the coffee to Holodeck One and allow me to get to the Bridge without anymore interruptions? If you haven't noticed already, we have an ion storm on our hands and this is no time for any CB talk."  
  
Confusion marked Neelix's response. "What is CB talk?"  
  
"Probably another one of Mister Paris' quaint 20th century euphemisms," the Doctor acidly replied. "How a grown man can spend so much time looking up irrevelant . . ." Tom quickly deactivated his combadge before his mind went off the deep end from the mindless chatter.  
  
Tom arrived on the Bridge several minutes and barked, "Report!" Ayala revealed that the new ion storm had inflicted a 20% drop in the shields. The inertial dampeners suffered a 15% decrease and the transporters, replicators and external sensors remained off line. In other words, bad news all around. Nothing new.  
  
As before, Tom stood behind Liz Jenkins, while she piloted Voyager through the ion storm. At least she tried. Unfortunately for the young pilot, the storm proved to be too much for her and Tom was forced to relieve her at the Conn and fly the ship through the worst of the storm. Once Voyager reached calm space again, Tom gave Ayala command of the Bridge and left. He returned to his quarters to check on B'Elanna. She remained stretched across the bed, still asleep.  
  
"Doctor to Paris," chirped Tom's combadge.  
  
Tom responded, "Paris here. Is there something wrong, Doc?"  
  
"No. I just wanted to inform you that everyone inside Holodeck One has been given the inapprovaline. Although we had a bit of difficulty with Mister Tuvok. It seemed he refused to drink the coffee before he finished the last eight stanzas of Falor's Journey. Not a bad song, if I must say."  
  
"Who is still missing?"  
  
According to the Doctor, Captain Janeway, Chakotay, Harry, Seven and Jenny Delaney remained at large. Five people. Searching for five people with missing combadges should not be difficult. At least Tom hoped. "Listen Doc," he continued, "I'll meet you on Deck 2 and we'll search from there to Deck 6. Neelix and Andrews will search Decks 7 to 10. And I'll send Jarvis and two other security guards to search Decks 11 to 15. This way, all of us can quickly cover more ground and get this over with as soon as possible."  
  
The Doctor responded that he would meet Tom at Turbolift 2, on Deck 2. Then Tom contacted Neelix and Jarvis and gave them their instructions. At last, Tom thought as he rode in the turbolift. Everything should be winding down. If all goes well, the entire episode would end. Hopefully, without any major problems.  
  
* * * *   
  
To cover more ground in their search for the missing crewmen, Neelix and Andrews decided to split up. The ensign searched Decks 10, 11 and 12, while Neelix searched Decks 7 to 9. Neelix started on Deck 9 and worked his way up the ship. After unsuccessfully searching Deck 8, he stepped into the turbolift and headed for Deck 7.  
  
Neelix arrived at Deck 7 a minute later and continued his search. He strode along the corridor, stopping at a computer console every once in a while, to ask the ship's computer if any particular room was occupied at the moment. So far, his search resulted in eight crewmen occupying their quarters and a ninth occupying the Auxillary Computer Core Room. It was not long before he finally came upon the Hydropondics Bay - Kes's old haunt.  
  
In the two years between Kes's departure from Voyager and their encounter with the Equinox, various crewmen had tended the fruits, vegetables and other plants first tended by Kes. However, last year's encounter with the Equinox provided a permanent overseer in the Hydropondics Bay in the form of one of the survivors from that doomed ship - Noah Lessing.  
  
"Computer," Neelix addressed a nearby console, "is there anyone inside the Hydropondics Bay?" It could not be Noah. Neelix had last seen the crewman inside Holodeck One.  
  
The computer's voice stoically replied, "Affirmative."  
  
"Please identify the person inside," Neelix continued.  
  
"Unable to comply."   
  
Which meant that the person inside the Hydropondics Bay was not wearing a combadge. Perhaps one of the missing officers from the celebration. Neelix took a deep breath and stepped inside. "Hello!" he cried out. "Is anyone here?"  
  
A low, deep voice echoed throughout the bay. A voice that chanted some familiar words. "Ah-koo-chee-moya. We are far from the sacred places of our grandfathers; we are far from the bones of our people. We come here seeking guidance."  
  
"Commander?" Neelix walked through the bay until he came upon Voyager's First Officer squatting on the floor between the Tarkelian roses and the tomatoes. "Commander, is that you?"  
  
Dazed eyes glanced up at the Talaxian. "Neelix!" A bleary smile spread across Chakotay's face. "My friend"  
  
"That's right, Commander. I'm your friend." Neelix knelt beside Chakotay. "Ah, what exactly are you doing?"  
  
"Summoning my spirit guide, of course," Chakotay responded in an off-center manner that left Neelix feeling wary. "My spirit guide will lead me to my destiny."  
  
Neelix gave a nervous cough. "Uh huh. But, ah, don't you need your medicine bundle? Your akoonah?"  
  
"I have it right here." Chakotay picked up an empty bottle and shook it. Neelix recognized the object as one of the bottles of Valax that were being distributed during the festivities at Fair Haven. The Talaxian reached for the bottle, but Chakotay snapped it out of his reach. "No! It belongs to me!"  
  
"Uh, Commander, that is a bottle you're holding. And it's empty. I don't think you can summon your spirit guide with that."  
  
A giggle escaped the First Officer's mouth. "That is what the spirits want everyone to think." His dark eyes sparkled in a conspiratorial manner. Neelix became even more uneasy. "But I know the truth. Only this," Chakotay shook the bottle once more, "can help me summon my spirit guide. And lead me to my destiny."  
  
"What, uh," Neelix nervously continued, "what exactly is your dest . . .?"  
  
A husky voice interrupted the scene between the two men. "What's this?"  
  
Neelix glanced up and was relieved to find Captain Janeway looming above. He saw that she still wore her deep blue dress from the festival. "Captain!" Neelix's voice nearly sang. He sprung to his feet. "Am I glad to see you!"  
  
"Is there a problem?" the Captain asked. Her gray eyes settled upon the Commander.   
  
Chakotay let out a delighted, "Kathryn!" His hands reached out and clutched part of her skirt. "I knew you would come!"  
  
"Uh, Commander, let go of the Captain's skirt." Neelix attempted to pry Captain Janeway's skirt from the First Officer's grasp, but failed. "Commander, please!"  
  
A serene smile touched the Captain's lips. "Never mind, Neelix. If it makes him happy."  
  
"You don't understand. Commander Chakotay is not . . ." The Talaxian paused dramatically. "As you can see, he's not . . . you know, well." His voice dropped a decibel or two. "He thinks he is summoning his spirit guide."  
  
One of Janeway's auburn brows formed an arch. "Oh really?"  
  
"Yes . . ." Neelix paused and stared at her. "Captain, you seem . . . well, normal."  
  
Janeway frowned. "Shouldn't I be?"  
  
"Well, you have been acting odd, along with the rest of the crew. Have you taken the Doctor's medicine?"  
  
The Captain paused momentarily. "Why . . . yes! Yes, I have. I ran into the Doctor some time ago. Her glance returned to Chakotay, who was now rubbing the edge of her skirt against his cheek. "Now, shall we do about the Commander?"  
  
Neelix picked up the carafe he had left on the deck. "Well, I was about to give Commander Chakotay his . . ." He paused and shook the canister. Empty. "Oh dear. I've seemed to run out of medicine."  
  
"Do you need to get more?" The Captain's voice oozed with compassion.  
  
"I'm afraid so." Neelix glanced at the First Officer, who continued to rub Janeway's skirt against his cheek, while chanting. "Uh, Captain? Could you . . .?"  
  
Janeway finished his sentence. "Keep an eye on him?" A bright smile lit up her face. "I would be happy to."  
  
For a second, Neelix hesitated. He peered at the Captain, wondering if he had spotted an odd look on her face. However, a second glance made him realized that his imagination might be running rampant. As he headed for the exit, the last words Neelix heard was Captain Janeway's gentle voice instructing the Commander to release her skirt.  
  
  
* * * *   
  
When Neelix returned to the Hydropondics Bay with a carafe in hand, he discovered to his dismay that Captain Janeway had disappeared. Again. Fortunately, Commander Chakotay had remained. Yet, the First Officer seemed to be in a curious state of undress.  
  
"Commander?" Neelix knelt beside Chakotay. The latter's vest had been tossed to the side and his white shirt, ripped apart. Neelix spotted what looked like love bites over the Commander's broad chest. Love bites? Even more disconcerting was the sight of Chakotay's unfastened trousers, pulled down below his waist. Neelix's eyes widened. He had a pretty good idea on what had transpired between the Captain and the Commander during his absence.  
  
Chakotay grunted as he attempted to rise from the floor. "Hey Neelix!" he crowed in a slurred voice. "What are you . . ." He slumped back on the floor with a thud. "What are you doing here? Ah!"  
  
Neelix leaned over the inert officer. "Are you okay, Commander?"  
  
A wide grin that some would describe as silly, spread across Chakotay's face. "I'm better than okay, Neelix. The spirits have finally answered my prayers. After so many years."  
  
"Commander?"  
  
The First Officer sighed. "Ah, if you only know. To think, Kathryn and I had finally got . . ." He paused and frowned. "Uh Neelix, where is Kathryn?"  
  
Neelix hesitated. "She's ah . . . she's waiting for you." He leaned forward and whispered in the other man's ear. "Inside your quarters."  
  
The words shot new life into the First Officer. He immediately sprung forward into a sitting position. "Really?" His dark eyes sparkled with a light Neelix had not seen in ages.  
  
"But first," the Talaxian continued, "how about a little coffee to bring to her?" He shook the carafe.   
  
"Actually, I would prefer to bring her more Valax," Chakotay replied.  
  
Neelix thrust the carafe in Chakotay's face. "I've added a little Valax in the coffee. To give it more flavor. Sort of my version of Irish coffee. Would you like a sip?"  
  
Naturally, the First Officer accepted Neelix's offer. Who could refuse Valax in any form? Neelix screwed the top off the carafe, filled it with coffee and handed it to the Commander. Who immediately consumed every drop.  
  
"Delicious!" the burly man declared with another silly grin plastered on his face. Then he passed out.  
  
Neelix tapped his combadge. "Neelix to Andrews. Please meet me in Hydropondics."  
  
"Andrews here. Is there a problem?"  
  
"No. I merely require your assistance in carrying Commander Chakotay to his quarters."  
  
Andrews replied, "I'm on my way."  
  
Neelix sat back on his hunches and sighed. What a day this has been! At least half of the crew, drunk from his Valax. Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay in the Hydopondics Bay. Janeway and Michael Sullivan in the holodeck. The Captain oogling Commander Tuvok and propositioning Tom Paris. And the Captain with Ensign Larson in one of the turbolifts. Poor woman. Is it any wonder, considering how bereft she had been of companionship these past six years. After all those years of celibacy, her libido seemed to be out of control. Neelix wondered if any other crewman had reacted in a similar manner.  
  
* * * *   
  
  
"You know Doc, I see no reason why we have to search the ship, together," Tom complained, as the pair walked along Deck 6. "We could cover more ground if we separate."  
  
In typical snappish manner, the EMH replied, "I suppose we could separate, Mister Paris. That is, if you want to encounter more females unable to resist your . . . charms alone."  
  
Tom glared at the Doctor. "Just about everyone is either inside Holodeck One or in their quarters. And I doubt that either Seven or Jenny are interested in my 'charms'."  
  
The Doctor smirked. He spoke the next words with great enjoyment. "And Captain Janeway?"  
  
The hesitation in the pilot's demeanor amused the Doctor. He had to admit - Tom Paris turned out to be an entertaining, yet worthy adversary over the past three years. The sight of a speechless Paris even made up for the loss of Kes - occasionally.  
  
Reveling in his small victory, the Doctor continued to follow Lieutenant Paris along the corridor. He eventually found himself halting   
  
Tom pressed the door's announciator and replied, "Since he's not inside Holodeck Two, there's a good chance he might be here."  
  
Of all the simple-minded thinking! The Doctor acerbically reminded the Chief Pilot that Ensign Kim was under the influence of Valax. "Considering his present state, Mister Kim, Seven and Ensign Delaney could be anywhere!"  
  
"Including here," Tom added. He rang the announciator once more. "We might as well check it out."  
  
Again, no one responded. The Doctor turned to Tom. "Apparently, I was right. No one is answering. And we're wasting our time. I'm sure that Ensign Kim and . . ." He paused. His auditory subroutines had detected a low moan, emitting from inside the ensign's quarters. The Doctor frowned.  
  
"What's wrong?" Tom asked, staring at the EMH.  
  
The Doctor shook his head. "Either my auditory subroutines are malfunctioning, or there is someone inside Ensign Kim's quarters." More moans followed. "Definitely inside. I believe that Ensign Kim may be ill. Of course . . ." the Doctor's frown deepened, "the pitch of the moan seemed unusually high for a . . ."  
  
"Computer," Tom stated, interrupting the hologram, "override privatization lock. Authorization Paris Omega Delta." The computer acknowledged the code and opened the door.  
  
The Doctor's matrix produced enough subroutines to leave him trembling with outrage. "Well really! At least allow me to finish my sentences." But Tom had already entered Harry Kim's quarters. Realizing that he was being ignored, the EMH followed Tom inside.  
  
Not a soul could be seen inside the living area. The Doctor spotted a lone combadge on the floor, next to the sofa. "Doesn't seem to be anyone here. Perhaps I was mis . . ." He heard another moan. Judging from Tom's reaction, he was not the only one who heard.  
  
"Seems to be coming from inside Harry's bedroom," Tom commented. He marched toward that direction. The Doctor followed.  
  
The EMH would have walked straight into the bedroom, if Lieutenant Paris's figure had not blocked the doorway. "Really Lieutenant! If you would please cease these erratic movements and . . ." The words died on his lips when he saw what had apparently caught the pilot's attention.  
  
It was a sight the Doctor would never forget. A mass of flesh seemed to be displayed across Ensign Kim's bed. Flesh that belonged to the Operations Chief, Ensign Delaney and . . . and . . . the EMH could not say her name. Not even in his mind. Other words, however, poured out of his mouth. "Oh my . . . OH MY GOD!"  
  
* * * *   
  
The Doctor's cry rang in Tom's ears. He barely noticed. His attention remained focused on the chain of bare flesh on Harry's bed. He shook his head. Incredible!  
  
"Oh my God!" the Doctor continued to cry. "This is unbelievable!"  
  
Tom added in a near whisper, "More like incredible." His emotions ran the gauntlet from surprise to shock to disbelief and finally, to admiration toward his friend. "Harry, Harry, Harry!" he exclaimed with a smile on his face. "I never thought you had it in you."  
  
Dark eyes filled with horror bored into Tom. "How can you stand there and smile at this . . . this degenerate scene?" The Doctor's gaze returned to the figures on the bed. "Seven-of-Nine!"  
  
Degenerate was not a word Tom would describe the scene before him. More like sexy. Exciting. Erotic. Maybe even original. Yeah, definitely original. Tom marveled at the human chain stretched across the bed. Against the bed's headboard sat Seven-of-Nine in all her naked glory, with her head thrown back and legs spread wide. Ensign "Eager" himself, Harry Kim, laid below her, flat on his back and his face jammed between Seven's legs. Nor could Tom forget Jenny Delaney, whose body could rival Seven's. She straddled Harry's lower body, riding the Ops officer like a rodeo performer on a wild horse.   
  
It amazed Tom that all three bodies seemed to move in unison. Like one big wave of flesh. Both Seven and Jenny emitted moans at the same time. "Wow!" Tom said a little louder. "Harry, you lucky bastard! I've only dreamed of experiencing something like this!"  
  
"Lieutenant!" The Doctor's voice brimmed with outrage.  
  
Tom dismissed the Doctor with a wave of the hand. "Give me some slack, Doc! How often does a guy actually experience a ménage a trios? Let alone witness one?"  
  
"Can you please set your mind, amoral as it is, to stopping that . . . stopping them?"  
  
The pilot's eyes remained focused on the erotic scene before him. "Why? This is better than watching any old holovid. Sort of like voyeurism at its best."  
  
The rage in the hologram's voice increased. "Lieutenant! If you pl . . ."  
  
One of Tom's hands rose in the air, signaling the EMH to stop talking. His gaze returned to the ménage a trios, obviously in its last moments. The three bodies heaved a few more times before both Seven and Jenny released a loud, orgiastic cry simultaneously. Tom shook his head once more. Amazing! He returned his attention to the EMH and found himself alone.  
  
"Tommy!" Jenny's cry returned his attention to the threesome on the bed. The Stellar Cartographer climbed off Harry and crawled toward the bed's edge. "Tommy, what are you doing here? Come to join us?" Her eyes sparkled invitingly.  
  
Six years ago - hell, maybe even five or four, Tom would have eagerly accepted Jenny's invitation. Now, all he could think of was how he and B'Elanna could recreate their own version of what he had just witnessed. Only, how do you enjoy a ménage a trois with two people?  
  
"No, I haven't," Tom said in response to Jenny's question. He glanced behind the stellar cartographer and spotted Harry, struggling to sit up. "Hey Harry! I guess I don't have to ask how your evening went." His eyes rested upon Seven, stretching her body in a most suggestive manner. "Seven."  
  
The ex-Borg responded with a husky, "Lieutenant Paris."  
  
"You plan to join us, Tom?" Harry said. He wore what Tom would describe as a shit-eating grin on his face. "We could make it a foursome. Or maybe the Doc can join. I thought I heard his voice."  
  
Tom shot a glance at the EMH. Who seemed to be pacing back and forth across Harry's living area in an obvious snit. "I don't think the Doc is in the mood, Harry. As for me," he faked a yawn, "I'm a little tired right now. I just left B'Elanna." Tom waggled his eyebrows suggestively. Harry's grin grew wider. "However, I did bring a little treat." Tom shook the carafe in his hand. "Neelix's version of Irish coffee. With his Valax." After a pause he added with a smile, "Just consider it as sort of a post-coital cocktail."  
  
* * * *   
  
Ten minutes later, Harry, Seven and Jenny were sprawled across the former's bed. Unconscious, thanks to Neelix's "Irish coffee". Tom spared one last look at the trio, shook his head in disbelief. He could not wait for B'Elanna to hear about this.  
  
"Okay Doc," Tom announced as he returned to the living area, "they're out cold. All we have to do is get Seven and Jenny dressed and . . ." He stopped at the sight of the holographic doctor still pacing across the floor. And now murmuring to himself. Tom frowned. "Doc? Are you okay?"  
  
The EMH whirled upon Tom, stabbing the latter with dark, wild eyes. "Do I look OKAY?" Great, the pilot added silently. Just what he needed. A hologram in the throes of jealous dementia.  
  
Tom took a deep breath. "Look Doc, this is really not the time to get a bad case of envy. So Seven slept with Harry. So what? She was drunk! Ten to one, she won't even remember what happened, tonight."  
  
"Ugh!" The Doctor threw his hands in the air out of exasperation. "You do not understand! While under the influence of that . . . Valax, Seven turned to Ensign Kim and not . . ." He bit off his last words with a frustrated grunt.  
  
Tom understood perfectly. Doc felt upset that Seven had turned to Harry for a little passion and not him. The EMH feared that the object of his desire secretly longed for the Chief Operations Officer. Then again, Tom remembered something that Neelix had said. "You know something, Doc? Neelix told me that Seven was looking for someone else, while in the Mess Hall. Maybe she was . . . well, in such a state of mind that she chose Harry, who was the first man available."  
  
Dark eyes stared at Tom with disbelief. "Do you really expect me to buy that, Lieutenant?"  
  
The pilot sighed and his voice hardened. "Let me put it another way. We have to get Seven and Jenny dressed and back to their quarters. And I can't do that without your help and the transporters down."  
  
"There's always a first time," the Doctor replied with a sniff.  
  
Tom shot back, "Okay Doc, this is an order. Help me get them dressed and back to their quarters. Now!"  
  
"Considering Seven's state right now, I do not believe she would be able to stand up in her regeneration chamber."  
  
"Then she can stay in Sick Bay!" Tom retorted. "Now stop weeping about like some spurned lover in a bad melodrama and help me get them dressed!"  
  
His teal-colored shoulders slumped in defeat, the gloomy looking hologram heaved a large sigh and followed Tom back into the bedroom.  
  
END OF PART 3 


	4. Chapter 4

"WHEN IRISH EYES ARE TALAXIAN - Part 4"  
  
Once Tom and the Doctor had delivered Jenny to her quarters, they returned to Harry's quarters for the now fully dressed Seven. Before they left, Neelix informed Tom about his encounter with Captain Janeway and Commander Chakotay. Visions of a strangled Talaxian cook filled Tom's thoughts when he learned how the Captain managed to fool the former. Using B'Elanna's meditation methods, Tom calmed down and with the Doctor, lugged the former drone to Sick Bay.   
  
Upon their arrival in Sick Bay, they found Megan Delaney gaining conscious. "Doctor? Tom?" Megan slowly rose into a sitting position. She clutched her forehead and groaned. "What happened? What am I doing here in Sick Bay? And why do I have this god-awful headache?"  
  
The pilot and the hologram dumped Seven on an empty biobed, before the former rushed to help Megan to her feet. "The answer to all three questions," Tom said, "is Neelix's Valax."  
  
"Gods!" Another groan escaped Megan's lips. "I see what you mean. I had one too many drinks."  
  
The Doctor sarcastically added, "Actually, one drink would have been suffice."  
  
"Huh?" Megan stared at the two men with confused eyes.  
  
Smiling gently, Tom explained that Neelix's Valax proved to be incompatible with the bloodstreams of those from the Alpha Quadrant. "Just about everyone who drank some became affected."  
  
Megan stumbled about Sick Bay, until her eyes came upon Seven's inert form. She nodded at the former drone. "Her too?"  
  
Tom nodded. Before he could open his mouth, the doors slid open and a groggy-looking B'Elanna strode into Sick Bay. "Doctor, I have a splitting headache. Do you have any anaglesiac available?" She paused at the sight of Tom, the Doctor and Megan staring at her. And at the figure stretched out on one of the biobeds. "What the hell is going on?"  
  
"Congratulations Lieutenant," the Doctor replied. "You're the second person to survive Mister Neelix's atrocious drink. Ensign Delaney, here, is the first."  
  
B'Elanna's gaze focused upon Tom and Megan, standing in front of the biobed. For one awful moment, Tom feared she had remembered witnessing his and Megan's wrestling match on Deck 5. "Jenny?"  
  
"Megan." The stellar cartographer walked toward the Doctor. "About that anaglesiac, Doc?"  
  
The Doctor picked up a hypospray from a nearby tray and pressed it against Megan's neck. "I would also recommend a few hours of rest, Ensign. That Valax was very potent."  
  
"I don't get it," B'Elanna said, as she headed for the EMH for her medication. "I only had three glasses of Valax. At least I think I did. And yet, this happens. I thought Neelix's little drink was suppose to have less alcohol than anything made in the Alpha Quadrant."  
  
Tom replied, "It does. The Doc checked it out himself, before today. Like we had told Megan, those from the Alpha Quadrant seemed to have a low resistance to it. Sort of like encountering a new disease."  
  
"Oh wonderful! I get drunk from fermented Leola root. By the way," a frown creased B'Elanna's lovely face, "how did I end up in our quarters?"  
  
Tom explained how Crewman Jarvis found her inside one of the Jeffries tubes. "She had summoned me and I carried you home."  
  
"What about me?" Megan asked. "I wasn't found any place strange, was I?"   
  
A smirk appeared on the Doctor's face. "Only Lieutenant Paris can answer that, Ensign. He was the one who found you."  
  
"He did?" Both Megan and B'Elanna cried out at the same time. All eyes fell upon the pilot. Who found himself growing uncomfortably warm all over.  
  
Struggling to maintain a calm façade, Tom quickly replied, "Well, uh yes. I found you unconscious. Inside Turbolift One."  
  
"Really?" The Doctor's eyebrows waggled mischeviously. "I didn't realize that Ensign Delaney was unconscious."  
  
Tom glared at the hologram. Too bad one could not strangle a photonic being. Tom would have happily done so at this moment. "Yes Doc! She was unconscious when I found her. You just forgot." His eyes fell upon the unconscious figure stretched out on another biobed. "As for Seven," he nodded at the former drone, "you wouldn't believe where the Doc and I found her. It was in . . ."  
  
"Inside the Mess Hall!" The Doctor's smug expression had vanished. Tom noticed how his face had paled. Could holograms do that?  
  
B'Elanna looked unimpressed. "So what? She was found in the Mess Hall. What's the big deal?"  
  
The Doctor glanced at Tom, who remained silent. He added uncomfortably, "Seven was attempting to . . . uh, she was telling jokes to several people inside the Mess Hall." He paused. "Rather badly."  
  
A short laugh burst out of Megan's mouth. B'Elanna arched an eyebrow, Tuvok-style. "Seven-of-Nine, a comic? That must have been an unusual sight."  
  
"Just as a drunken ex-Borg must have been," Megan added. "I thought Seven's nanoprobes gave her a low resistance to alcohol of any kind. Even champagne."  
  
The EMH stiffly explained that as a former drone, Seven possessed a low resistance to alcohol. "Oh yeah," B'Elanna added with a smirk. "I remember when she was practically tight once, after a glass of champagne. And that had synthehol. Maybe the next time we go against the Borg, we should consider exposing them to alcohol. Or maybe Neelix's Valax. Get the Collective drunk and take over ourselves."  
  
Even Tom could not help but laugh at his wife's crack. It felt nice to see that sharp edge of her's again. His combadge crackled. "Carey to Paris."  
  
Ignoring B'Elanna's sudden interest, Tom responded. "Paris here. You have news for me, Joe?"  
  
"I thought you would be happy to know that the transporters are back on-line. Engineering now has enough power to complete repairs on the external sensors. Hopefully, they should be up pretty soon."  
  
Tom smiled. "Hey! That's good news, Joe! Keep me updated on the repairs. Paris out."  
  
Dark brown eyes narrowed. "The external sensors are off-line?" B'Elanna asked.  
  
Oh oh! Tom saw the glimmer in his wife's eyes and immediately knew she would not be spending the next several hours recovering from her ordeal. He hesitated before answering, "Yeah, but before you think of heading for Engineering, you need to get some rest." Tom turned to the EMH. "Am I right, Doc?"  
  
Mischief lit up the Doctor's eyes. Fortunately, his ethical subroutines kicked in before he could cause any trouble. "Mister Paris is right, Lieutenant. You do need some rest. Both you and Ensign Delaney. I would recommend at least two or three hours of rest before either of you can return to duty."  
  
"I'll rest after I help get those sensors back on line," B'Elanna replied tartly. "Meanwhile, I'll be in Engineering. See you later." She gave Tom a quick peck on the cheek and headed for the doors.  
  
Tom heaved an exasperated sigh and started after his wife. "B'Elanna!"  
  
* * * *   
  
Around the corner from Sick Bay, a woman hiding the corridor's shadows watched the double doors slide open and Voyager's chief engineer stride out into the corridor. As she marched toward the nearest turbolift, another figure emerged from Sick Bay. A taller figure with sandy blond hair, who wore a black uniform with red shoulders. Gray-blue eyes stared hungrily at the second figure.  
  
"B'Elanna! B'Elanna, wait up!" Tom Paris cried after his wife. "Look, maybe the Doc is right. You've been through a lot, today and you need some rest." The woman surreptiously followed the pair.  
  
The half-Klingon disregarded the helmsman's words with a wave of her hand. "Nonsense! I feel perfectly fine." B'Elanna paused in the middle of the corridor, nearly causing her husband to collide into her. She whirled around and seared him with a shrewd and penetrating stare. "Besides, I think you simply want an excuse to get me inside our quarters. Alone."  
  
Kathryn Janeway frowned, as she watched Tom's jaw nearly drop to the deck. Her frown deepened when he gathered B'Elanna into his arms. Arms she longed to feel around her. "What's wrong with that?" the Chief Pilot whispered into the engineer's ear. "It'll be fun." He gently nibbled his wife's earlobe. Janeway closed her eyes and imagined that mouth nibbling her ear. She shivered.  
  
"Hmmm," B'Elanna moaned. "I am so tempted. But," much to Janeway's relief, the former snapped back into her Chief Engineer mode, "I have external sensors to repair. And you have a starship to run. So . . ." B'Elanna extracted herself from the pilot's arms and continued her march along the corridor. Tom followed closely behind. So did Janeway. When the couple halted in front of Turbolift One, Janeway paused a few feet behind them. She then ducked behind another corner and observed the pair.  
  
"Why don't you accompany me to our quarters first," Tom said, as he and B'Elanna waited for the turbolift. "I have to change into a fresh uniform. And I wouldn't mind some help." He gave his wife the full effect of those blue peepers.  
  
B'Elanna seemed to be made of sterner stuff. Or else she had developed a resistance to the pilot's famed puppy dog looks. "Sorry Flyboy," she said, patting Tom's arm. "Right now, the ship comes first." The turbolift doors opened and the couple stepped inside.  
  
Silly woman, Janeway thought. How could Lieutenant Torres resist those . . .? An idea struck the red-haired captain's Valax-induced mind. It was an idea that would have horrified every member of her crew, yet it filled her with pure giddiness. She opened the hatch to the nearest Jeffries tube and crawled inside. Janeway realized that if she hurried, she just might reach her destination before the Chief Helmsman.  
  
* * * *  
  
Tom accompanied B'Elanna all the way to Engineering. In fact, he felt tempted to remain there and assist in completing the repairs. Until he remembered that he had a ship to run and a missing captain to find. Besides, one glance inside the bustling Engineering section told him that he would simply be in the way. Tom exchanged a brief kiss with his wife and left.  
  
Ten minutes later, he reached his quarters on Deck 3 and strode inside. He heaved a sigh of relief and began to unfasten his jacket. Then he spared the chronometer a quick glance and gasped. In another three hours, Gamma shift would end. Which meant he, Ayala and the others assigned to Beta shift had been on duty for nearly thirteen long hours. Hopefully, the other crewmembers will recover from the Valax just as fast as B'Elanna and Megan. And those who had been on duty for nearly two shifts will finally get the rest they deserved. What he deserved.  
  
A noise from inside the bedroom interrupted Tom's thoughts. He frowned and strode toward the other room. Unless B'Elanna had transported from Engineering, there was no way she could have . . .  
  
Tom stopped short at the sight before him. Sprawled on the large bed was Kathryn Janeway, clad only in a 19th century petticoat skirt and camisole. Unbelievable! First Harry, Seven and Jenny and now, this. Only, Tom suspect that he was not meant to be voyeur. "Captain?" his voice croaked. "What . . . uh, what are doing here?"  
  
Janeway slithered off the bed and walked toward the stunned pilot. "What does it look like, Mister Paris? I'm here to see you." One of her slim, pale hands began to caress Tom's forearm.  
  
"Uh . . ." The words caught in Tom's throat failed to break free. He found himself in one of those rare moments in which he could not speak.  
  
A seductive smile curled Janeway's lips. "Cat caught your tongue, Tom?" She leaned forward, her mouth inches away from his. "Lucky cat."  
  
To Tom's horror, Janeway moved in for the kill. She swiftly planted her lips on the pilot's. Tom tried to pull away, but the Captain grabbed hold of his tunic front and jerked him forward. "Don't fight me on this, Tom," she whispered in a husky voice. "You don't know how long I've waited for this mom . . ."  
  
"Tom!" The familiar voice immediately chilled Tom's blood. B'Elanna. "Tom, if you're still here, could you search for my lucky sonic spanner? Tom?"  
  
Panic finally spurred Tom into action. He grabbed Janeway and her discarded clothes. "Computer," he ordered in a desperate tone, "lock onto my combadge and initiate a site-to-site transport to Deck Two, Section Five, Cabin 2b." To his relief, a familiar tingle surrounded him and Janeway, transporting them to the latter's cabin.  
  
The auburn-haired woman giggled. "That was exciting! Talk about a close call!" She thrust her face in front of Tom's. "What do you have planned for an encore, Lieutenant?" Her hands roamed suggestively over his broad chest.  
  
Tom gently pushed the Captain away. She pouted. "Sorry Captain, but I don't have any encores planned at the moment."  
  
A secret smile replaced the pout. Before Tom knew what happened, Janeway hooked one of her legs around his, causing Tom to fall on the deck. Janeway then threw herself upon the hapless pilot before he could recover. "Now I've got you!" she purred triumphantly. "You are one difficult man to get, Mister Paris. But not anymore." She lowered her mouth upon his.   
  
For a brief moment, Tom felt a shot of desire. But only for a moment. He also remembered that: 1) the Captain was intoxicated; 2) he was married to a jealous and possibly very possessive half-Klingon; and 3) although Captain Janeway's lips felt great, he preferred to feel his wife's, instead. Keeping these thoughts in mind, Tom mustered up a great deal of determination and wrenched his mouth away from his commanding officer's.  
  
"What the . . .?" Janeway's gray eyes slitted dangerously. "Why are you being so difficult, Tom? I must tell you that you're not helping your career."  
  
Think, Paris, think! Find a way to keep this woman from ravishing your body and get her to drink the Doc's little concoction. Tom gently forced Janeway to roll off his body and stood up. Then he took the Captain's hand and helped her to her feet.  
  
"Sorry about that, Captain. I . . ." He heaved a heartfelt sigh. Giving the older woman the benefit of his eyes, he continued in a gentle voice. "Don't get me wrong. I think you're a very attractive woman." Tom smiled wistfully. "I always have. It's just that . . . well, you're the Captain. And you really took me surprise with that little maneuver, a few minutes ago."  
  
Janeway stared at him with a longing expression he found embarrassing. "Huh?" was the only word she managed to croak.  
  
"What I'm trying to say, Captain, is that although I find you attractive, I have to consider other matters. Like you being my commanding officer. And my marriage." Dear God, Tom thought, please, please let her see the light! And allow me to escape from this room.  
  
However, no amount of prayers seemed to help Tom. Kathryn Janeway seemed determine to keep her chief helmsman by her side - and for her pleasure. She threw herself into Tom's arms, knocking him onto the sofa. "Oh Tom! Surely we can forget about all that? At least for tonight. Can we?" She began planting small kisses all over Tom's face. And much to his embarrassment, he found himself becoming aroused. I have to end this now, he thought desperately. Before everything goes out of control. Okay, Tommy Boy! Time for the performance of your life.  
  
Tom broke away from Janeway's embrace. "I . . ." He hung his head low and dramatically bit his lower lip. "I guess I can." Sheer delight lit up Janeway's eyes. She leaned forward and planted a few more kisses. Until he stopped her with a few choice words. "But let's not rush into this," he said once again searing the older woman with his best puppy dog gaze. "Not now." Tom added in a seductive voice, "How about a little drink to start with?"  
  
Again, Janeway purred. "Hmm, good idea. Too bad I don't have anymore Valax." She pressed a slim hand against Tom's chest. "Maybe we can replicate some wine. Say, a bottle of Bollinger '51?"  
  
"How about Irish coffee?"  
  
Janeway's eyes blinked. "Irish coffee? That doesn't . . . exactly . . . sound romantic."  
  
God, it's me again. Please make sure that B'Elanna never learns what I'm about to do. Tom leaned toward the auburn-haired captain and unfastened camisole's top button in a lightning move. "You mean, you've never huddled in front of a roaring fire, sharing cups of Irish coffee with a loved one?" he whispered in a husky voice. "For shame."  
  
Janeway let out a gust of breath. "Well . . . maybe . . ."  
  
"Neelix made some for today. With Valax." Tom unfastened the next button. Janeway's chest heaved in and out. Then Tom lightly caressed the small patch of soft flesh revealed by the gap in her chemise.  
  
A moan escaped from the Captain's mouth. She gulped and whispered, "Irish coffee sounds like a fine idea."  
  
"Great!" Tom jerked away from the Captain, unaware of the sudden frown on her face. "I'll replicate two cups for us." He shot up from the couch and walked over to the replicator. "Meanwhile, why don't you change into something, uh, more comfortable?"  
  
Janeway shot back, "What could be more comfortable than this?"  
  
Tom glanced over his shoulder and grinned. "Use a little imagination." Janeway grinned back. Then she stood up and headed for her bedroom.  
  
A moment after the bedroom door closed behind her, Tom's grin disappeared. He tapped his combadge. "Paris to Neelix. Where are you?"  
  
  
The Talaxian responded, "Neelix here. I'm in the Mess Hall."  
  
Tom sighed with relief. "Good! Is there anymore of that coffee left?"  
  
"Yes, of course. I have some left over . . ."  
  
"Beam two cups of that coffee to the replicator inside the Captain's private quarters," Tom ordered.  
  
A pause followed. "You've found the Cap . . ."  
  
"Later Neelix," Tom interrupted. "Just beam it over. Now!"  
  
Less than a minute later, two cups of coffee materialized inside the replicator. The moment Tom grabbed hold of them, the bedroom door slid open. His eyes nearly bugged at the sight of Kathryn Janeway clad in a sheer pink pegnoir that revealed every inch of her body in all of its glory. If only Chakotay could see her now, Tom thought. Then he remembered that the First Officer had already experienced a similar moment in the Hydropondics Bay. Too bad the poor sap will never remember.  
  
"You like?" Janeway purred, as she struck a pose in the doorway.  
  
Tom almost responded with an enthusiastic, "Me like!" Until he remembered his goal. And the wedding ring on his finger. Instead, he gave the Captain his most seductive smile. "Very nice. And very lovely. Your drink, Captain." He handed her one of the cups. "Sorry, no whipped cream."  
  
"It would only get in the way." Janeway stepped forward, her body millimeters away from Tom's. "By the way, you forgot to stop calling me Captain. Remember, my name is Kathryn. And your name is Tom." Her mouth inched toward his.  
  
Panic filled Tom. He had to do something to prevent another mouth-to-mouth contact. In a desperate move, he raised his cup to his lips. "A toast?"  
  
Janeway heaved a frustrated sigh. "All right. If you must. What shall we make a toast to?"  
  
"To the best captain in Starfleet," Tom declared, grinning like a schoolboy.  
  
Auburn-colored brows arched upward. "That's it? Not the most attractive woman?"  
  
Tom quickly added, "That too." He took a sip of coffee. It took a great deal of effort not to gag from the nauseating concoction.  
  
On the other hand, Captain Janeway seemed to enjoy it. "Hmm, this is delicious!" she declared. "A first for Mister Neelix's coffee. He has really outdone himself, today. Perhaps it is the Valax." She took another sip, followed by one more. Before long, she had drained her entire cup. "My! That was delicious! Don't you agree?" Then Janeway heaved a sigh and swayed a bit, before she finally passed out on the floor.  
  
The pilot immediately placed his coffee mug on a nearby table. He then picked up the unconscious woman, carried her to the bedroom and gently lowered her on the bed. Mission accomplished. Tom felt his spirits soar. He could finally put the nightmare of Neelix's Talaxian whiskey behind . . .  
  
"Tuvok to Paris."  
  
Ah, relief! A silly grin appeared on Tom's face. "Paris here. I gather you are awake, Commander. How did you get your combadge back?"  
  
"I did not. I am using Ensign Lang's combadge. However, I do wish to know one thing," the Vulcan continued.  
  
"Shoot."  
  
Silence. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
Tom sighed. "Never mind. What do you want to know?"  
  
Tuvok continued, "Could someone please explain why I am inside Mister Sullivan's establishment, on the holodeck? Wearing only my undershirt and trousers?"  
  
  
END OF PART 4 


	5. Epilogue

"WHEN IRISH EYES ARE TALAXIAN" - Epilogue  
  
  
Due to the chaotic events from Voyager's St. Patrick's Day celebration, Captain Janeway delayed the Senior staff meeting by three hours. Much to Tom's relief. After Tuvok had relieved him from command, he managed to catch at least five hours of sleep before reporting to the ship's Conference Room. Unlike the meeting from three days ago, nearly everyone managed to remain alert. Everyone, saved for Tom and Neelix. The pair had to struggle to keep their eyes opened.  
  
"I'm sure that everyone is looking forward to our next subspace transmission from Starfleet," the Captain was saying.  
  
Harry piped up, "I'll say. It's been two months since we last heard from them." Fortunately, he did not add that the last transmission had resulted in a Maquis takeover of the ship, thanks to an obsessive Bajoran vedek/former Maquis and Tuvok's telepathic abilities.  
  
Janeway gave her youngest senior officer an indulgent smile. "You're right, Harry. It has been quite a while. Before this meeting ends, there is one last matter to discuss." Her eyes fell directly upon Tom. "Namely, the St. Patrick's Day celebration from yesterday. It did not exactly turn out as Mister Paris had planned." She shrugged.  
  
"I wouldn't call it a complete flop, Captain," Tom drawled. A hint of a wicked smile tugged his lips. "Everyone seemed to have enjoyed him or herself. Immeasurably."  
  
Uneasy eyes stared at the Chief Pilot. Janeway's gray ones narrowed. "Exactly, what did you mean by that, Tom?"  
  
"What I had said, Captain." Tom assumed an innocent expression. "Right Doc? Neelix?"  
  
The Talaxian responded with an eager nod. The EMH, on the other hand, merely uttered a grunt. Seven-of-Nine frowned at her mentor. "Is there something wrong, Doctor? You seemed a bit disgruntled."  
  
"I'm fine, Seven!" the Doctor snapped. The ex-Borg stiffened at the former's curt tone. Which immediately softened. "I mean . . . I feel fine. Perhaps I need to go offline for a few hours. My program has been running for almost 24 hours."  
  
Tom let out a silent gust of breath. He need to have a long talk with the Doctor about unrequited love.  
  
"What actually happened?" Chakotay asked. "And we want details."  
  
Tom glanced at Neelix. Who glanced at the Doctor. Who merely rolled his eyes and looked away. "Well?" B'Elanna added in an impatient voice. "Aren't you going to tell us?" She faced her husband, who sat next to her. "You've already told me that I was found inside one of the Jeffries tubes. Why I was there, I have no idea. And that Seven was found in the Mess Hall." Something akin to a squeak escaped the Doctor's lips. Tom glared at him.  
  
"Doing what?" Seven demanded.  
  
B'Elanna stared at Tom, who finally answered. "According to Neelix and the Doc, you were trying to tell jokes inside the Mess Hall. To no one in particular." Seven's face turned slightly pink.  
  
"And what was I doing?" Chakotay asked.  
  
Neelix spoke up. "I found you inside the Hydropondics Bay." He gave an embarrassed cough. "You were trying to find your spirit guide."  
  
A loud snicker erupted in the Conference Room. Tom received a sharp jab in the side from his wife. He murmured a quick apology to the silent First Officer.  
  
"Lieutenant Paris has already informed me of my activities," Tuvok coolly added.  
  
Janeway eyed her Chief Security Officer with interest. "Has he?" She turned to Tom. "What exactly did you tell Commander Tuvok?"  
  
"Uh, I didn't find him, Captain," Tom replied. "Neelix did."  
  
All eyes, including Tuvok's, fell upon the Talaxian. Tuvok seemed a bit wary. "Ensign Andrews and I found Commander Tuvok," Neelix replied. "Inside Sullivan's pub. Singing something called 'Falor's Journey'."  
  
Someone groaned. Tom glanced at Harry and smiled. The ensign received a glare from the Vulcan officer. And a smile tugged at Janeway's lips. "I remember hearing 'Falor's Journey' once. Lovely song. Even if it was 348 verses long."  
  
"Oh yes, Captain," Neelix eagerly added. "In fact, you seemed very appreciative of Commander Tuvok's performan . . ." Tom kicked the Talaxian's shin and the latter fell quiet.  
  
One of Janeway's brows rose questioningly. "Yes, Mister Neelix? You were about to say?"  
  
"Uh, you liked the song very much." Neelix paused. "So did Lieutenant Nicoletti."  
  
The look on the Captain's face seemed to indicate that she did not quite believe the cook. However, she did not pursue the matter. "Anyway," she continued, "Since Lieutenant Paris, Neelix, the Doctor and the others . . ."  
  
"What about you, Captain?" Seven interrupted in her usual blunt manner. "Lieutenant Paris and Neelix have failed to inform us how you and Ensign Kim were affected by the Valax."  
  
Harry added, "Well, I'd like to know."  
  
"I'm sure you do," the Doctor said caustically. Fortunately, the other ignored him. Tom and Neelix exchanged uneasy looks. The Doctor's expression looked downright disgruntled.   
  
Tom spoke up. "I found Harry inside the Captain's quarters."  
  
Sharp gasps and intakes of breath filled the room. The Captain responded with an outraged, "I beg your pardon!"  
  
"Oh, you two weren't alone," Tom quickly added, realizing the implication of his words. "Captain, you and Harry led a few others to your quarters for a uh, a party. With Valax. Along with Jenny Delaney. You even," his eyes fell upon the Doctor's forearm, "tried to borrow the Doc's holoemitter for Michael Sullivan."  
  
Relief seeped into Janeway's eyes. And Harry's. Tom privately congratulated for his quick thinking and effective lies. Right after Tuvok had relieved him of command, Tom held an impromptu meeting with the Doctor, Neelix, Andrews and the rest of the Security detail about what they had witnessed. All pledged to never reveal what really happened.  
  
"I want to add one more thing," Janeway said. "I plan to add commendations for Lieutenant Paris, the Doctor, Ensign Andrews and Neelix for their actions during this . . . recent upheaval."  
  
Tom added, "I'd also recommend Ensign Ayala, Lieutenant Carey, Ensign Jenkins and several others for their help, Captain."  
  
Janeway smiled. "Of course. Just leave me a list, Tom, and I'll see to it. All of those who were forced to work a double shift will be allotted an extra shift for off-duty time. And Mister Neelix," she smiled sweetly at the Talaxian, "not only will you get an extra shift off duty, you will also have the pleasure of spending a week cleaning plasma manifolds."  
  
"Captain?" Neelix's orange eyes grew wide. "I don't understand."  
  
"According to the Doctor, you failed to include synthehol in your Valax. Against Starfleet regulations." Janeway's voice hardened slightly at the last two words. "But since you did provide valuable help later on, you will only spend one week cleaning those manifolds. Not two." She gave Neelix a tart smile. "Understand?"  
  
The Talaxian silently nodded.  
  
"Good. Unless there is anything else to add, everyone is dismissed."  
  
* * * *   
  
"I can't believe that Doc told the Captain about Neelix's Valax," Tom complained hours later, inside the Paris/Torres quarters. He and B'Elanna were preparing for bed. "That was a little petty of him, don't you think?"  
  
B'Elanna heaved a large sigh and crawled into bed. "Between Harry's excitement over the Reginald Barclay hologram and your constant complaints about the Doctor, I swear I'm about to go out of my mind."  
  
Tom joined his wife. "Harry seemed that excited, huh?"  
  
"Aren't you?" B'Elanna gently straightened Tom's slightly mussed hair.  
  
Confusion filled Tom for a brief moment. How could he answer that question? "I don't know," he finally answered. "A part of me is happy that Reg Barclay and Starfleet has finally found a way for us to get back to the Alpha Quadrant. At least for everyone else's sake. Yet, another part of me . . ."  
  
"I know," B'Elanna quietly added. She pressed herself against Tom's side. "I feel the same. I guess both of us have been a lot happier, here in the Delta Quadrant these past years. And now that we're together, I believe we can be happier just about anywhere." Tom gathered his wife in his arms and gave her a tight squeeze.  
  
Silence filled the couple's bedroom for a few minutes, as they contemplated on the day's events. Then B'Elanna broke the silence. "By the way, were you telling the truth about how you found me inside Jeffries tube 37?"  
  
"You were thinking about that?" Tom demanded. B'Elanna gave him a pointed stare and he capitulated. "Okay. If you must know, I was telling the truth. Jarvis did find you inside the tube. And I came to get you."  
  
B'Elanna added, "And I was just sitting there? Drunk?"  
  
After a moment's pause, Tom confessed, "Well, no. Not exactly."  
  
B'Elanna glanced at Tom's wary expression and cringed. "Oh no!" she exclaimed. "I must have done something awful! Like what? Acting very Klingon?"  
  
"Actually, quite the opposite." Tom revealed that he had found her crying. Only, he failed to mention the reason for her tears. "You almost reminded me of your Human self, when we were in the Vidiian mines."  
  
"Why was I crying?"  
  
Tom quickly shook his head. "I haven't the foggiest."  
  
Silence greeted the pilot for a few seconds. And then, "Hmmm. Why do you think the Doctor was being petty about Neelix's Valax?" When Tom refused to answer, B'Elanna's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Tom? Was there something else you failed to inform the staff?"  
  
Over and over again, Tom reminded himself of the pledge of secrecy he had sworn with Neelix, the Doctor, Andrews and the others. Until he felt a small warm hand underneath his gray T-shirt. Hands that slid through his chest hairs in an intimate manner. His resolve to maintain secrecy immediately vanished without a trace and Tom revealed what he and the Doctor had stumbled across, inside Harry Kim's quarters.  
  
"Oh my God!" B'Elanna cried out in disbelief. She automatically grabbed a handful of chest hair. "Are you serious?"  
  
Pain shot throughout Tom's chest, as B'Elanna continued to pull at his hair. "Ow! B'Elanna! Watch what you're doing!"  
  
"Huh? Oh." She released her painful grip. "Sorry. But you were serious, weren't you? Starfleet in a threesome with Jenny Delaney and Seven? Our Seven-of-Nine?"  
  
Tom rubbed his chest as he answered, "Yep. Harry finally got his wish. Only he won't remember what happened."  
  
"Are you going to tell him?"  
  
After a moment's contemplation on that possibility, Tom decided he would remain quiet. "I don't think that is a good idea. Can you imagine Harry's reaction if he knew? He'd probably spend the next several years or so, staring at her. Imagining on what could have been. Probably make Seven very nervous."  
  
B'Elanna shook her head. Then she gave her husband a curious stare. "Exactly just how much did you see?" she asked.  
  
"Everything." Tom let out a small chuckle. "Harry and Jenny even invited me to join them."  
  
Again, B'Elanna's eyes narrowed. "Really? May I assume you weren't tempted to join them?"  
  
"Of course you may assume," Tom retorted in a voice that did not exactly express outrage. "Besides, I was too busy wondering how we could enjoy our own little ménage a troi."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
Tom rolled on to his left side, facing B'Elanna. "What I had in mind would require the use of one of the holodecks. Just imagine it. You, me and a holographic version of you or me. Sounds interesting, huh?"  
  
A speechless B'Elanna stared at him with wide eyes. Until finally, "Thomas Eugene Paris!" she declared in a shocked voice. "You really have a wicked mind!" A sly smile tugged the corners of her mouth. "Of course, I'm very tempted to consider it."  
  
"So was I. Until I realized we've been doing a spectacular job as a ménage a deux." Tom drew his wife close to his chest. "By the way, I would very much prefer if you never try to talk me into volunteering for command of the Bridge again."  
  
B'Elanna grimaced slightly. "Okay, maybe I got carried away a bit. Especially, since I've been in the Command chair a few times myself. I just thought . . ." Again, she slid her hand underneath his T-shirt. "I thought it would be nice if we both got a little experience commanding the Bridge."  
  
Tom struggled to ignore the busy hand underneath his shirt. And his reactions his body seemed to have generated. Of course, he had a few tricks of his own.  
  
"It's a nice idea," Tom said, as she gently forced his wife on her back. Then he slid the spaghetti straps of her maroon-colored nightgown from her shoulders. "But if you ever try to talk me into commanding the Bridge again," he gently slid the gown down B'Elanna's torso, ". . . well, let's just say you'll be deprived of certain privileges."  
  
B'Elanna's voice grew husky. "Like what?" she demanded.  
  
Tom leaned forward as his teeth captured her lower lip and gave it a few tugs. "Privileges like that," he whispered back. "Or maybe this." His mouth traveled to B'Elanna's right earlobe and suckled it. Meanwhile, his hands continued to push her nightgown to her waist.  
  
A whimper escaped B'Elanna's mouth. "Unlike certain other people," she said in ragged breath, "I'm not susceptible to a few kisses. You'll have to do better than . . . aaah!" Tom's mouth had left her earlobe and settled around the quivering tip of one of her breasts. After a few tugs and kisses, B'Elanna's moans grew louder.   
  
Victory finally claimed Thomas Eugene Paris. "Oh God! All right! All right!" B'Elanna cried between moans. "I surrender! I swear, I promise that I'll never . . . Ah!" Tom's tongue flickered across the engorged nipple. "Kahless! I swear I'll never bring up the subject of Bridge command again! Never!" The last word came out in a breathless rush.  
  
Satisfied, Tom reluctantly withdrew his mouth from his wife's chest. After a few seconds of contemplation, he lowered it upon her mouth for an inviting kiss.  
  
  
THE END  
  
  
  
NOTE: I would like to thank Annie M and PJ in NH for graciously allowing me to use in my story, their idea of a holographic ménage a troi, featured in their marvelous story, "Scientific Curiosity". Thank you very much, ladies. - RFK 


End file.
